


Whumptober 2020: Supernatural

by LadyWallace



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: All Seasons, Angelic Healing, Baby breaks down, British Men of Letters (Supernatural) Being Assholes, Brother Feels, Cas Possesses Sam to heal him, Cas Whump, Cas has trauma from Naomi, Castiel's Halo, Cultists, Dean Whump, Dean to the Rescue, Emotional Whump, Experimentation, Forced Mutism, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection, Panic Attacks, Possession, Protective Castiel, Ritual Sacrifice, Sam Whump, Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood, Sam to the Rescue, Stranded, Whipping, Whumptober 2020, hunting accidents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: My Supernatural collection of Whumptober 2020 stories.Day 30 (experiment, whipped, left for dead) S12- Dean is left for dead on the side of the road while Sam and Cas are taken by Ketch to the BMOL headquarters. It's up to Dean and Mary to launch a rescue mission.Whump Contents:1-Dean2-Sam3-TFW4-Cas5-Dean (and Sam)6- Sam7-Cas8-Sam9-Cas (and Sam&Dean)10-Sam & Dean11-Sam, Dean and Cas
Relationships: Castiel & Bobby Singer, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947367
Comments: 49
Kudos: 159
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Day One: "Let's Hang Out Sometime"

**Author's Note:**

> *Slides in* It's that time of year again!
> 
> As always, I'm super excited for Whumptober and the opportunity to share it with you guys again :)
> 
> This year I'm actually going to be doing stories for 3 fandoms more or less evenly spaced, so, also check out my Good Omens and JoJo's Bizarre Adventure collections if you wish!
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, and despite doing as much research as I can, I can't promise everything in these stories is accurate, so please forgive any inaccuracies and please do not comment on them.
> 
> This is for entertainment; fanfiction should not be used as a first aid manual.

Perhaps it was telling that Dean could instantly distinguish just how much trouble he was in before he had even opened his eyes.

The way his body hurt, the specific pressure on his shoulders and wrists, his chest tight, each breath difficult and painful…yeah. Looked like it was gonna be a fun day.

"I know you're awake."

A heavy blow whipped Dean's head to the side and he grunted, prying his eyes open. Which was easier said than done. One was sealed closed with blood, making it impossible to open. He figured it was a product of his aching head.

"Couple more minutes," he grumbled. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

His captor, the demon he and Sam had been hunting, sneered at him, flashing his eyes to black. "Yeah, well, I'm on a time limit. And I'm not gonna let you stall any longer just so your brother will get here."

Dean spit contemptuously at the demon's feet. Okay, waiting for Sam had been his original plan, but he hadn't had a lot of hope that it would work. The demon snarled again and reached out, grabbing a fistful of Dean's hair and wrenching his head back.

"So, Dean, where's that pretty little thing you stole away from me, eh?"

Dean forced a smirk. "You think I'm gonna tell you?"

The demon chuckled. "Ooh, yes, that's right. Big bad Dean Winchester. Alastair's apprentice. I know you think you can probably endure any torture, but pain's pain, sweetheart. And there's a hell of a lot more repercussions up here."

"Don't have to tell me that," Dean smirked.

The demon slammed his fist into Dean's nose, whipping his head backwards and making it ache even more. He felt blood slide down the back of his throat and hoped his nose wasn't completely broken.

"And yet, you Winchesters never seem to learn. You keep trying to take things from us. Didn't you learn after your own deal that you can't just break a contract?"

"The girl was ten when you made that contract with her. She didn't know what she was doing," Dean growled.

The demon slammed a fist into his stomach and Dean wheezed, swinging back and forth in his chains.

"No age restrictions on deals, Dean. If someone can wish for something and confirm they want it, then it's fair. Ten years is ten years."

"Yeah, and you should get a lot more than that in prison for kissing ten-year-old girls," Dean growled.

The demon chuckled, and pulled out a knife, testing it on his thumb. "The girl's soul is mine. Your little damsel in distress is going to be paying her debt soon enough. As soon as you tell me where she is."

Dean heaved a sigh. "I already told you that wasn't going to happen."

The demon shrugged as if it didn't really matter. "Well then, I guess I get to have my fun. Lucky me."

He slashed the blade down Dean's chest and ripped his t-shirt in half. Dean grunted as the blade cut through flesh on the way, leaving a shallow trail of blood beading from his neck to his belt buckle.

"A little blood loss will do you good. Maybe put you more in the mood," the demon said, carving a deep furrow across Dean's chest. The hunter grunted, then was unable to help a cry as the demon slowly started to burrow the blade into the meat of his shoulder. The pain from the hanging position Dean was already in only worsened the deeper the knife went. His breath hitched and he gritted his teeth.

The demon seemed amused. "Feeling a little more cooperative now?"

"Up yours," Dean snarled, then cried out as the demon yanked the blade from his shoulder. Blood dripped down over Dean's chest and the demon brought the blade up, licking some of the blood from it.

"Hmm, there's an idea…but we'll save that for later." The demon lashed out and slammed the hilt of the blade into Dean's ribs. "A few cracked ribs can't be good while you're hanging like that."

"Son of a bitch," Dean gasped out, swinging in his chains, unable to protect his ribs at all.

The demon cackled and dragged the knife slowly across his belly. "How does that feel, Dean? Feel like giving up any little tidbits yet?"

Dean grunted, feeling slightly dizzy. Maybe it was from the pain or maybe the blood loss, but he felt sick and like everything was starting to spin. Hell, maybe it was his head or the lack of oxygen getting into his lungs. It didn't really matter. Only the fact that he was having trouble focusing.

The demon slammed a fist into his chin and his head snapped back again. This time Dean let it hang, blood dripping from his mouth from a bitten tongue.

The demon gripped his chin and shook him. "What's this? Giving up so easily, Dean?" Another slash of the knife across his ribs caused Dean to jerk, letting out a sound of pain. "You want it to stop? Tell me where you hid the girl."

"I'll tell you," Dean murmured, opening his eyes as he met the demon's. "In hell."

The demon sighed, releasing him, and snarled, slashing another deep cut across Dean's chest.

"You're really too confident in your ability to withstand pain. You're already fading."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, spitting again. "But I think you've also become too confident. Or at least too distracted."

"What are you talking about?" the demon demanded.

Dean just smirked, glancing over the demon's shoulder at the shadow approaching from behind.

The demon's eyes widened and he spun around, raising his blade, but another one streaked out of the darkness and slammed into the demon's throat. The demon howled and sparked out before collapsing to the ground, dead.

"Sammy, thank god," Dean sighed tiredly.

"Dean!" his brother cried as he kicked the demon out of his way and hurried the final few steps to his brother.

"Can you get me down?" Dean asked as Sam looked around.

"I'm working on it," Sam told him and grabbed a crate from nearby, bringing it over and putting it under Dean's feet. Dean gratefully stepped onto it, gasping as some of the pain subsided. He still couldn't breathe very well, but Sammy was climbing onto the crate next to him with the keys to the shackles. He reached up and unlocked the manacles and Dean's arms fell limply to his sides, as he also started to list, no longer having any support.

"Hey," Sam called softly as he caught his brother before Dean could fall off the crate. "Easy."

"Damn," Dean murmured, trying to grab hold of Sam to help his brother, but his hands were numb and his chest and shoulders ached horribly, not to mention the cracked ribs, making breathing still incredibly painful.

"It's all right, I got you," Sam told him, practically lifting Dean off the crate with a grunt as he stepped down, wrapping one of Dean's arms over his shoulders before starting them on their way out of the warehouse.

"You took long enough, little brother," Dean grunted, stumbling then gasping as Sam heaved him up more securely.

"Sorry, thought you were doing okay on your own," Sam said with a small smirk.

"Bite me," Dean growled.

"I think you've taken enough damage for the day."

Dean snorted. "Is the girl safe?"

"Yeah, she should be fine now."

"Good," Dean said. "But next time, you're gonna play distraction."

"Sure," Sam replied with a smile. "Now let's go get you fixed up, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean replied tiredly as he leaned on his brother, making their way to the Impala that was waiting to take them home.


	2. Day Four: Running out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Running Out of Time (Collapsing building)

The sirens were blaring when Dean pulled the Impala to a screeching halt, not even bothering to mutter an apology to his baby this time as he threw open the door and scrambled out of the car, looking toward the looming dust that was hovering over the city block.

Dean's heart was in his throat. _Please no_ , he pleaded. _Please…_

But as he made it out onto the street, he saw that his worst fears were confirmed.

The building Sam had gone to investigate in had been blown to bits.

Trying to quell his fear for the worst, Dean pushed his way through the horrified onlookers, yanking his FBI badge out—not that it would do much good.

He found the sheriff they had been working with on the case standing off to the side with several other officers and rescue workers.

"Sheriff," Dean called. "Have you seen my bro—partner? He was interviewing people in the building."

The sheriff shook his head. "Sorry, agent, I didn't see him. We don't even really know what happened. The going theory is that it was a gas main, but I don't think we'd be so lucky as to assume that it was just a coincidence."

Yeah, it sure as hell wasn't. Dean gritted his teeth, fury and desperation surging through him. He knew they shouldn't have taken a job with another hunter. It never ended well. He and Sam should have sent him packing as soon as they had realized how many screws he had loose. They had tried, but Jerry Preston was a stubborn bastard and he'd been determined to get the monster that had killed his previous hunting partner, even if he had to use explosives to do it.

Dean could appreciate a little revenge, sure, but he was beginning to think that it had been Preston that had been the cause of his buddy's death. And who the hell thought a bomb was a good way to take out a monster?

A fireman suddenly came running up to the gathered rescue team. "This building isn't going to last much longer, we need to get everyone away."

"Wait, it's collapsing?" Dean demanded. "What about everyone inside?"

"Thankfully, since it was a holiday weekend, only a few people were working today. We got as many out as we can, but I won't risk sending any of my men in now."

"My partner's in there!" Dean shouted.

"You don't know that for sure, agent," the sheriff said, obviously trying to calm him down, but Dean wasn't having it.

"If he wasn't he would be out here. I've already tried calling him and there was no answer!" He was cut off by a loud, rending crash as more of the building fell down, dust billowing up as more people screamed.

"If you won't go in, I will," Dean said with determination.

"Agent!" the sheriff and fire chief both yelled at once but Dean evaded their hands and rushed into the building.

The dust was blinding and he choked on it, lungs spasming as memories of smoke and fire surged up. It hadn't been that long ago when Dean had saved Sam from a fire for a second time. This would be no different. He would find his brother and he would get him out of there. He pulled his t-shirt over his mouth and kept going.

"Sam!" he shouted, hurrying through the building. He had no idea where the hell Sam might be, but he wouldn't stop looking until he found him.

Or until the building fell down, but if Sam couldn't be recovered, then Dean wouldn't care if it took him with it.

He found Preston first. The other hunter's throat had been ripped out. Dean felt his stomach roil, ignoring the sound of girders shifting and rubble clattering on the ground. It looked like Preston hadn't gotten his revenge after all, despite all this. Dean almost wished he was still alive so he could kick his teeth in. If anything had happened to Sammy…

"D-Dean…"

The voice, though faint, was still as loud as a gunshot to Dean filtering through the sounds of the building collapsing.

"Sammy!" he cried, whipping around, trying to find his brother.

"Left…"

Dean spun around and finally found him. Sam was trapped under a desk, that had been smashed by a large piece of ceiling that had come down. Dean raced to his brother's side, crouching down as he looked at him.

"God, Sammy," he whispered, exhaling in relief that was short-lived when he saw what Sam was trapped under. He saw another smear of blood off to one side, and nearly threw up as he realized it was from a smashed figure that had taken the worst of the rubble.

"Don' worry," Sammy said, and coughed. "Jus' the monster."

Dean lowered a hand to Sam's dust-covered hair as he made a quick examination of his brother. "How bad?" he asked, swallowing hard.

Sam wet his lips. "Just my leg stuck. Hurts, but I don't think it's broken. Maybe a couple cracked ribs. Desk stopped stuff from falling on me full-force." He coughed again on the dust and Dean hurriedly pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it across Sam's nose and mouth to filter out the dust.

"Just hold on, Sammy, I'll get you free."

Another horrible rending sound screamed through the building and Dean ducked instinctively, shielding his brother, as more of the building fell in, some debris dusting his back.

"Dean," Sam croaked, one hand clutching his brother's sleeve. "You should…go. Get out. No time…"

"Like hell," Dean snapped. "You know I'm not gonna leave you here."

He began to inspect the rubble, seeing exactly what was trapping Sam and realized it was the edge of the desk that had a large chunk of the ceiling on top of it. He was pretty sure he could move it.

He just wasn't sure if he would be able to do it in time.

But he would be damned if he didn't try to.

Dean put his shoulder into it and shoved as hard as he could, using a piece of rebar as leverage. It shifted, and Sam cried out, causing Dean to grit his teeth. He was choking on the dust, and couldn't breathe very well, making him even more desperate.

But finally, with one last heave and a defiant cry, Dean shifted the debris and after that, it was just shoving some more smaller pieces away before he was able to lift the table off of his brother.

Sam was breathing heavily, wincing at each breath, and Dean hurriedly checked him over for broken bones before he started to pull him upright.

Sam gasped and grabbed on to Dean.

"Easy," Dean said, taking his brother's weight, knowing Sam was probably going to be favoring that left foot and still not sure if it was broken or not.

Another loud, rending crash pealed through the building and the ceiling above them shook, debris raining down on their heads. They were running out of time.

"Need to…go…" Sam breathed heavily, trying to stabilize himself as he limped, and almost collapsed, wrapping an arm around his ribs.

"Yeah, we do," Dean said, and wrapped Sam's other arm around his shoulders, practically hauling him along. Sam bit back a cry, groaning, and Dean bit his lip.

Another crash settled it. Dean simply heaved Sam up onto his shoulders. He knew it wasn't the best thing to do if Sammy had broken ribs, but at the moment they were in more danger of being crushed than they were of a punctured lung.

"Dean!" Sam cried as his older brother adjusted to his weight and hurried toward the entrance of the building.

Another horrible crash sounded behind them, dust encasing them, Dean picked up the pace as Sam's fingers dug into his arm.

"Not…gonna…"

But they did make it. Dean burst out of the building in a plume of dust and the light hit him full in the face. He gasped, coughing up the dust in his lungs, as he started to lower Sam off of his shoulders.

Paramedics were already rushing toward them, ushering them away, and getting Sam on a stretcher.

"Come away! It's going!" Someone shouted and Dean glanced behind him just in time to see the building collapse.

His knees wouldn't support him anymore, and he sank slowly to the ground, breathing heavily as he watched the building completely collapse in on itself.

Another minute, and they would have been caught in it.

Dean gave a shuddering exhalation of breath.

"Hey, are you riding with your partner, agent?" one of the paramedics called to Dean.

"Yeah," he croaked and pushed himself to his feet, climbing into the back of the ambulance where he sat beside Sam's head, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder with a poof of dust before he ran a hand through his brother's filthy hair. This one had been way too close.

Later at the hospital after Sam had been patched up and was lying, finally clean of dust, in a bed, his injured foot propped up, Dean sat by his side, eyeing the jello that had been brought for him.

"Next time, let's not work with crazy hunters," Dean said. "I don't really want to be running into any more collapsing buildings any time soon."

Sam huffed in agreement. "Yeah, no kidding. But…we are crazy hunters, aren't we? I mean, this could be us in a few years. You never know."

"Considering our track record, I doubt we'll live that long," Dean said and snatched the jello after all, getting a frown from Sam.

This one had been way too close of a call, and he wasn't stupid enough to think it would be their last one either. But at the end of the day, they always knew that they had each other to get them out of trouble when they needed it.


	3. Day Seven: I've Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: (support, carrying) TFW always carries each other when they need the support.

Sam wasn't sure how he had ended up here, and yet, somehow it was just his luck that it had worked out this way with him in the middle of nowhere, hurt and without Dean.

It wasn't like it was the first time, but with everything that had happened between him and Dean recently—the lying about Sam's condition post-trials and letting an angel possess him while tricking him into giving consent. Yeah, Sam had been pissed at his brother, and he still was. And Dean was pissed because he didn't understand why Sam was so angry. Didn't understand why he had been okay with dying.

But now? Now, Sam wanted to survive, and it was looking bleaker and bleaker by the moment.

He was out in the woods, werewolves hunting him down, and he couldn't run because he had screwed up his leg so bad he couldn't even stand. And on top of that, he was on his last two silver bullets.

He checked the makeshift bandage around his leg—he'd only had his flannel shirt to use which was already filthy from his run through the woods. He would be lucky if he didn't get an infection. That is, if he even had the chance to live long enough to get one.

A howl sounded out in the distance. Sam shuddered, knowing a hunting call when he heard one. The werewolves were getting closer and he was sure they could smell his blood, track him easily. He might have kept himself from bleeding out entirely, but he hadn't kept himself from leaving a trail.

There was another howl, but this one was followed by a gunshot, then several more. The sounds of wounded animals rang out in the woods before there was silence. Sam flinched in surprise, holding his breath. Was that…?

"Sam!"

Sam's breath exhaled in relief as the familiar voice sounded through the trees. He looked up to see the figure hurrying through the dark woods, looking around.

"Dean," he called.

"Sammy!"

And in that moment, Sam forgot all his grievances with his brother. He was just glad to see him. No matter how old he got, that would never change.

"Oh god, Sammy," Dean breathed as he rushed over to him, crouching down and pulling a flashlight out of his coat, shining it over Sam. "I thought they'd got you."

"I thought they would for a minute too," Sam said wearily. All his exhaustion and pain coming forward now that he was out of danger.

Dean cupped his cheek in relief before he started searching the rest of Sam's body, finding his injured leg.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "How bad is it?"

Sam gritted his teeth as he tried to shift into a standing position. "Pretty bad. Gonna need a hell of a lot of stitches."

"Hey, hey," Dean cautioned as he reached out and grabbed Sam's arm, keeping him from tumbling again. "Easy."

"It's fine, I…" even as he said it, Sam stumbled and collapsed against Dean who huffed a breath and steadied him, allowing Sam to lean his weight against him.

"Like I said, easy. I got you little brother."

Sam huffed out a long sigh, but was unable to help the small smile of relief that spread over his lips. "Thanks, Dean."

"That's all right," his brother said quietly, tugging him closer and pulling his arm over his shoulders. "Let's get you taken care of now, huh?"

Sam nodded tiredly and leaned on Dean gratefully as they made the long trek back through the woods to the car.

No matter what, he knew he could always count on Dean to carry him home.

XXX

Dean didn't think he'd felt this terrible for a long time. He should have stayed home, but Cas had been working another case and Jody and Donna were busy with work, and there was no way he was letting Sammy hunt a vamp's nest alone. Those always turned out to be pretty bad.

But he should always know better than to fight injured, and sick on top of it. Dean didn't get sick a lot, but with his terrible sleep schedule, his recent injury, and probably a slew of other things, he'd also contracted some kind of flu. Sure, he was mostly over it by the time he and Sammy went on the hunt, but he was still exhausted.

And the hunt had been just as grueling as he had expected, and ended with Dean getting thrown through a wall in the old house—of course one that had structural studs in it, which, of course he had to slam his injured shoulder into, also hitting his already aching head on the way down.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice filtered in as he shook himself off, somehow managing to sit up. His brother's tall figure hovered over him as he groaned, putting in a monumental effort to get his feet under him.

"Hey, you good?" Sam asked as he reached out to give Dean a hand.

Dean bit back another groan and grabbed part of the broken wall—the brace he had hit his shoulder on—to keep himself upright. God, his head hurt.

"Yeah, think I'm okay," he gritted out, cradling his arm as his shoulder continued to sing with pain. "We get 'em?"

"Yeah," Sam said, motioning with the machete he held toward the vampire bodies. He bent to pick up Dean's dropped weapon as well and handed it back to Dean. "Come on, let's get some shovels from the car and take care of the bodies."

Dean grunted. He certainly wasn't going to be doing any digging, but they would burn the bodies anyway.

He barely got outside though before he felt dizzy and his legs just felt like they were going to give up.

And then did, but Sam was there to catch him, getting a hand under his good arm and keeping him upright.

"Dean, you look terrible. I told you you shouldn't have come."

"Yeah, and leave you with all those vamps alone?"

Sam shrugged. "Okay, true, but, still…you can rest now."

"Nah, got to get the bodies taken care of before anyone finds them…"

"Dean," Sam said firmly, angling so he could look into Dean's face. "I've got it."

Dean sighed and tried to walk again, but his body just completely protested, leaving Sam to support nearly all his weight.

"And I've got you," he said. "Come on."

Dean allowed Sam to help him toward Baby, practically carrying him. Dean didn't know why his legs suddenly decided they didn't want to work. His head aching again in full force, and his body breaking out into a cold sweat, making his shiver. Damn, looked like his fever was back, or maybe he was just that exhausted.

Sam gently installed him in the backseat on the Impala and tucked a blanket around him, rolling another one up and setting it under Dean's head before he patted his knee.

"Just rest. I've got this. And we'll pick up some soup on the way home, okay?"

Dean murmured his agreement, but was already closing his eyes. He was so tired…

Sam snorted a soft laugh and tucked the blanket tighter. "All right, Dean, have a good nap."

And Dean drifted off, secure in the knowledge that, even though he was the big brother, Sammy still had his back, and would always be there when he needed him.

XXX

Castiel was not a stranger to pain, and yet there were some things that even he couldn't withstand.

He'd already been weak from having to heal Ishim's wounds and now that same angel that he hated so much was doing his level best to beat Castiel into the ground.

"You're so pathetic, Castiel, honestly," Ishim sneered as he buried his foot in the other angel's gut. "Look at you."

"Cas," Dean croaked from nearby and Castiel saw him trying to get up from the corner of his eye.

Ishim saw it too, and he spun around and kicked Dean in the jaw, sending him crashing back to the floor. "I've had enough of you, human. You and your pathetic kind." He bent and grabbed Dean by the hair, then proceeded to slam his face against the floor several times. "You want to show loyalty to this, Castiel?"

"Stop!" Castiel cried, rising shakily to his feet as he looked at Dean groaning on the ground, blood from his face smeared on the old filthy carpet of the church. "Stop hurting him!"

Ishim kicked Dean once more in the back and spun around, angel blade raised as he advanced again on Castiel.

"Still won't stay down, hm? When will you learn, Castiel? These human's have turned you. They're not your friends, or your pets, they don't care! Why won't you let me do you a favor and cut this aberration out of your life?"

"Because he's family," Castiel gritted out, spitting blood on the ground and swallowing back a gasp of pain as he felt broken ribs shift, pressing painfully into his lungs.

"He's not! You're an angel!" Ishim screamed.

Castiel curled his lip. "And you call yourself my family? After what you've done?"

Dean was stirring, sliding closer to the angel blade Cas had dropped on the ground earlier.

"Why do you think I hate you, Ishim?" Castiel asked darkly.

Ishim snarled. "Then I'll just put you out of your misery. Not like I haven't been wanting to do that for a while."

He lunged forward and Castiel blocked one blow before Ishim kneed him in his broken ribs and Castiel felt them puncture a lung. He gasped, coughing blood, and doubled over. Ishim slammed the pommel of the angel blade into Cas' head, then again and again. Castiel saw stars and was certain the other angel would crack his skull when…

"Cas!"

Ishim was suddenly gone, and Cas blearily saw Dean on top of him, fighting for control over two angel blades.

But another figure appeared, and Sam showed up on his other side and skidded to a halt next to him, shoving a piece of cardboard down in front of him.

"Cas, quick!"

Castiel saw it was an angel banishing sigil and instantly understood. He slammed his hand down on it and Ishim suddenly cried out and disappeared the second Dean slammed an angel blade through his chest.

Castiel collapsed back on the ground and panted, breath wheezing in his chest. Sam crouched next to him, a careful hand on his back as Dean staggered forward.

"Cas, holy crap, are you good?"

"D-Dean?" Castiel slurred, his head still pounding with agony. He could barely open his eyes, but he felt a familiar, calloused hand on his cheek, cupping his face.

"It's me. I'm fine…well, better than you anyway."

"Need to…get out," Cas said and tried to force himself up, but just coughed up some more blood.

"Hey," Sam said as he caught the angel gently, Dean getting onto his other side for support. "Don't worry about it. We've got you."

Castiel sagged, letting them take his weight as he suddenly felt exhausted. He gasped in pain as he tried to get his feet under him and his knees gave out.

"Easy, easy," Dean murmured and Castiel felt them maneuvering him gently between them. He flailed slightly as they lifted him completely off his feet but that just aggravated his injuries.

"Take it easy," Dean said again, shifting his hold. "Just relax. We got ya."

Castiel tried to breathe and allow his body to go limp as the Winchesters bore him between them, talking quietly to each other as they maneuvered him out of the church and into the sunlight.

The brightness made his head ache, but Sam stooped forward, blocking the sun from his face as they carried him toward the Impala.

"I got the door," Dean said, releasing Castiel's legs with one hand before opening the car. Carefully, they slid him into the backseat and Castiel took a sharp breath as his body settled.

"Are you gonna be able to heal this, or do we need an emergency room?" Dean asked worriedly as he took in all of Castiel's injuries.

"I'll be fine," he whispered. "Just…need to rest."

"Then rest," Sam said with a small smile. "It's over now."

Castiel sighed and heard Dean hand the keys over to Sam to drive, before he turned back to Cas, and pulled a blanket from the back dash of the Impala.

"Hey, Cas. I'm sorry."

Castiel cracked one eye open. "For what?"

Dean huffed a breath. "You know. Everything."

Castiel allowed a small smile, but he accepted the apology for what it was.

Dean tucked the blanket around him and patted his shoulder gently. "You know I've always got your back, right? No matter what. And what Ishim said…"

"Ishim was wrong," Castiel admitted. "About you. About me. You don't have to tell me. And thank you, Dean. I am so grateful to have you and Sam in my life."

Dean gave him a crooked smile, his face getting more and more swollen by the second and patted Cas again. "Me too, Cas."

The angel sighed and slumped into the backseat, allowing himself to drift into unconsciousness so his grace could heal him and listened to the car start and rumble comfortingly under him.

Yes, he knew that despite everything they had each other's backs. That's what family did.


	4. Day Nine: For the Greater Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: (take me instead, 'run', ritual sacrifice) Cas is taken by a cult for a sacrifice. Sam and Dean have to rescue him before it's too late.

"Sam! Dean! Run!"

Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel who was standing in the cave entrance, blade in hand.

"No way, Cas!" Dean shouted. "We're all getting out of this together, or not at all!"

"It's too late, anyway," a voice said behind them and they spun back toward the cave.

The cultists were surrounding them now, the hoods of their robes pulled low and blades held at the ready.

"Give us the boy with the demon blood," one said.

Dean instantly stepped in front of Sam. "Like hell."

"You think you'll make it out alive if you fight us?" one of the cultists questioned.

"I'll give it a damn good try," Dean snarled, pulling out his gun and leveling it at the cultist in front of him.

He squeezed the trigger.

All that happened was an unsatisfying click.

He was out of bullets.

The cultist smirked under his hood. "As you can see, fate is on our side today. Our god is looking out for us, but a sacrifice must be made before the full moon rises. And there is none better than a human bearing the blood of one of hell's own."

"Yes, there is," Cas said firmly as he stepped forward. "An angel."

"Cas, don't," Sam tried.

"An angel?" the cultist asked, seeming to be genuinely surprised. "I knew there was something different about you, and yet…well, I never suspected…"

"Take me instead," Cas told the man.

"No!" Sam shouted.

"Cas, don't," Dean told him. "We'll get out of this…"

"An honorable sacrifice—and seemingly a willing one at that," the cultist said with a smile. "We will take you up on your offer."

"Cas!" Sam and Dean cried as the cultists came forward to restrain Cas, taking his blade away from him.

"Run!" Cas shouted at them. "Do not stay here!"

One of the cultists came forward and injected Cas with something, making him go limp, his eyes glassy.

"Dean!"

Dean felt his brother tugging on him and stumbled backwards, just as another cultist lunged at him with a knife.

"You won't get away that easily," he said.

Dean kicked out, catching the cultist in the hip and Sam dragged harder on his coat.

"Dean, come on. We can't help Cas if we're dead and captured as well. We need to go."

Dean didn't want to. It went against everything he was to watch their friend get dragged away by these freaks, but he also understood Sam's point. If they got away now, they might be able to find a way to rescue Cas.

With everything in him screaming against this, he turned around and ran with Sam away from the caves and into the surrounding woods.

XXX

It was getting dark by the time they circled back. They'd been able to get back to the car and load up on ammo and whatever other weapons they might need. Dean hoped Cas would be safe for now. Those freaks had kept talking about the full moon so hopefully they would at least wait until it had risen to make their sacrifice.

Dean shuddered at the thought, furious that they had been forced to leave Cas.

"You think we can even get in back here?" Sam asked as they circled around the caves.

"You know they have to have a back entrance somewhere, and these woods are full of cave systems," Dean told him.

"Yeah, and we have no idea where any of them go. We don't have a map," Sam protested.

Dean stopped, holding up his hand for Sam. The two brothers looked around, Dean sniffing the air. "You smell that?"

Sam frowned, but nodded. "Yeah. It smells like…"

"Incense, or something," Dean said, trying to figure out where the wind was coming from.

They crept along until the found a rocky patch in the ground and found a natural hole in the middle of it, looking down into the caves below. The two brothers crouched down and peeked over the edge, seeing torchlight and getting an even stronger waft of incense.

"It's a natural skylight," Sam mused. "I bet the moon shines through it at some point."

Dean glanced over his shoulder, seeing the moon in the darkening sky. "I'm gonna guess in not too much longer."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. "You think we should get in and wait?"

Before they could decide, the sound of chanting began and Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder to keep him quiet as they watched the scene play out below.

The leader of the cultists walked at the head of the group, going to stand by a stone slab as the others formed a circle around it.

"The moon is rising," he said, spreading his arms dramatically. Dean would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so worried about Cas. "And our sacrifice to our eldritch god will begin."

More chanting and Sam grabbed Dean's arm. "Look," he hissed.

Dean glanced over and saw two more robed figures dragging Cas toward the alter before lifting him up onto it.

The angel still seemed paralyzed for the most part, but his eyes flicked around the room the light from the flames reflecting in them. He had been stripped to the waist and strange designs painted across his skin. He twitched minutely as if trying to struggle but whatever they gave him it had been something that could affect an angel.

The chanting got louder and Dean glanced back and saw the moon creeping further up in the sky.

"We need to make a move," he said.

"You know, I bet they're all here," Sam mused. "The front entrance is probably open. We should go in there and surprise them."

Dean nodded in agreement and they slid backwards, hurrying around, weapons held at the ready.

There was one guard that they took out quickly and then hurried inside through the cave system. Dean shuddered at the large murals that had been painted on some of the walls depicting Lovecraftian horrors he really didn't want to think existed.

The chanting got louder though and they knew they were close.

They got to the chamber and held back, peeking through.

The moon was slanting onto the floor now, but wasn't directly overhead. They still had a few minutes…

The cult leader raised Cas' angel blade, gesturing grandly and then lowered it toward Cas' chest.

Dean bit back a shout and the angel flinched as the blade bit into his flesh, carving a deep furrow down the center of his chest. Blood splashed across the alter.

Dean got ready to run in, but the cultist stepped back after that and raised the bloody blade. "Take this sacrifice!"

"Go!" Dean hissed and fired a shot, hitting the cult leader through the wrist, making him drop Cas' blade.

He and Sam rushed in, taking out as many of the cultists as they could before the moon rose fully and illuminated the small chamber.

Cas gave a strangled cry, and Dean whipped around to see the angel bathed in moonlight. But something was rising from his open wound, wisps of light…

Grace!

"Yes! Take your sacrifice!" the cult leader said.

Sam dashed across the room at the same time Dean lowered his gun toward the man. Sam dove over the alter, rolling Cas off of it with him.

At the same time, Dean's bullet hit the cult leader and he toppled over the alter, lying face up, facing the moon.

The remaining cultists suddenly wailed and knelt.

"Sammy, let's get the hell out of here!" Dean shouted, helping him haul Cas up between them as they booked it.

They didn't stop until they had gotten back to the Impala where they carefully lowered Cas into the backseat and Dean grabbed a flashlight and their first aid kit.

Cas was stirring, and Sam reached out to grip his shoulder.

"Cas? Are you good?"

The angel took a shaky breath, blinking slowly. "Mm…S'm? D'n?"

"We're here," Dean told him, handing the flashlight to Sam so he could rummage through the first aid kit. "We're just gonna get this wound patched up. Can you move at all?"

Cas weakly twitched some fingers, and barely shook his head. "Not well," he whispered.

"All right, well, hopefully whatever they gave you will wear off soon," Dean said and pulled out some antiseptic wipes, handing one to Sam as they both worked on cleaning the blood and paint from Cas' skin.

Dean wondered how long it would be before he could use his grace again, but realized that if he did have to stitch the wound, it would be best to do that back at Bobby's. Right now, he just wanted to get it patched up, and get Cas warm since he was starting to shiver.

Dean taped gauze over the wound as Sam watched wearily.

"Cas, did you lose any grace?" he asked.

The angel blinked again. "A little. That was…I don't really know."

Dean fought back a shudder at the sound of Cas' voice. He didn't either.

"Where's my coat?" the angel asked.

Dean huffed a laugh. "Sorry, buddy, we had to leave it behind. But we'll get you a new one, okay?"

Cas looked a little disappointed, but nodded in acceptance.

Sam grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Just rest right now, okay? Hopefully you'll be able to sleep off the drug."

"I don't sleep," the angel murmured even as his eyes were closing.

"Yeah, we know," Dean said, patting the angel's shoulder as Cas did indeed fall asleep.

They shifted him into a more comfortable position on the backseats and then climbed into the front as Dean started the car.

Dean glanced back at Cas, but he was sleeping peacefully.

"Sammy, you really think those cultists found something we don't know about?" he asked as the Impala rumbled to life.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam replied. "Honestly, I would rather not think about it."

"Probably best," Dean muttered as he pulled out onto the trail and gunned Baby out of there. Whatever it had been, they'd gotten away and that was all that mattered.


	5. Day Twelve: I Think I've Broken Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: (Broken down, broken bones) It was the middle of the night, they were in the middle of nowhere. Dean was unconscious on the backseat and the Impala was broken down.

It was the middle of the night, they were in the middle of nowhere. Dean was unconscious on the backseat and the Impala was broken down.

Sam wasn't entirely surprised, if he were being honest. After all, Dean's precious car, like him, had taken quite the beating during the last hunt. Who knew there were still ogres, let alone in America. But then, maybe that was just another product of Eve wandering around.

When the car first started coughing, Sam was horrified that they had run out of gas, but the tank was still half full. Which meant it was something else, something he didn't think he could fix.

He slid from behind the wheel, and pulled open the hood, steam rising into the night. Sam waved it away, trying to find the source. Even with a flashlight, he really didn't know what he was looking for, so it didn't help much. Sure, he'd helped Dean on multiple occasions, but he never really remembered much, Dean was always the mechanic. And the Impala never did work for Sam as well as she did for Dean.

Dean…

Sam glanced back into the car, worried that his brother still hadn't woken. He'd taken quite the hit, true. Broken arm, and a couple ribs, and on top of that lost a good bit of blood from a gash to the thigh. He wasn't doing well, and Sam needed to get him to a hospital, but they had been hell and gone from civilization on this hunt, and if he couldn't get Dean help…

Sam pulled out his phone, but _of course_ there was no service out here. He refrained from tossing it into the darkness as he sank slowly to his knees, until he was sitting with his back against the Impala.

It had been a rough few months. He had his soul back now, yes, but because of that, he was just feeling everything even more heavily than before. Like his current, seemingly hopeless, situation. He hated not knowing what to do, he didn't really trust himself anymore. He still had terrible nightmares about being in the Cage even though he didn't remember what happened…and now Dean was hurt, and he didn't even have his brother to lean on.

Sam felt his eyes prick and his throat tighten and he lowered his head into his hands. It was pitiful, he knew, but maybe he deserved to have a little cry to himself in the darkness. If he could only get ahold of Bobby, or an ambulance or _anyone_. He could pray to Cas, but the angel was away in Heaven dealing with a rebellion, and Sam felt bad about calling on him so much. Especially since it wasn't _really_ life or death. Sam just felt alone and sorry for himself.

"S'mmy?"

The voice startled him and he dashed a hand across his wet eyes as he surged to his feet, leaning into the open window to see Dean stirring, blinking at the light Sam shone on him.

"Dean? How are you doing?"

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, looking around, then winced as he shifted, hissing slightly as he curled further into himself.

"Hey, don't move," Sam cautioned him. "We…we broke down. I don't know what's wrong with the car…"

"What's going on with her?" Dean asked.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said quickly, hating that he couldn't seem to fix this himself. Why was he so useless lately? "I'll figure it out, just rest."

"Hey," Dean said quietly, obviously hearing the waver in Sam's voice. "Sammy, take a breath, and tell me what's wrong."

Sam did, taking a shuddering breath and actually did feel better afterward. "I think it's over-heating. I don't know if it's because of something that happened when the ogre crashed into it or…"

"Hey, Sammy, just calm down," Dean said again, and Sam realized he was trembling, breaths coming quickly. Why was he having such a hard time with this? Was he really so useless now that he had gotten his soul back?

"Okay, I'm sorry," he murmured, running a hand over his face.

Dean pushed himself up with a hiss before Sam could stop him and leaned back against the seat. "Don't be sorry. Look, if she's just overheating, then it's probably the coolant. There may be a leak from the damage or something. If that's the case, we'll just let her cool off a little more then put some water in the tank and see if that works. If not, I'll take a look at her."

Sam bit his lip with a wince. That was a simple explanation, how come he hadn't been able to think of it?

"Hey," Dean said again. "Sit down for a minute."

Sam wearily sank into the front seat, legs resting outside the door.

"I should be taking care of you," he said. "You need a hospital, not me being a wreck."

"Dude, I've had worse than this. I'll be fine. And don't worry so much. You've been through a lot, you deserve to have a little breakdown every once in a while. Just like Baby." Dean reached over the seat with his good arm, squeezing the back of Sam's neck. "It's just not as bad as you're making it out to be. We're not being chased, I'm hurting, yeah, but I'm not dying, and we both survived freakin' Shrek. I'd say that's a good day."

Sam huffed, but finally felt himself relax a little. "Okay, you're right. I just don't know what's going on with me lately."

"I get it," Dean said. "I kind of felt the same way after coming back from Hell. It's not easy and you don't have to pretend it is. You know I'm always here for you."

Sam swallowed hard and gave a jerky nod. Truth was, he had been scared Dean _wouldn't_ be that night. His brother was hurt, and he had honestly felt so alone.

"I know," he replied. "I just…I've just been having a hard time recently." Admitting it made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

"I know," Dean said simply. "You know you aren't hiding anything from me, little brother." His hand carded gently through Sam's hair before it returned to squeeze the back of his neck. "And you don't have to feel alone. I'm always here if you need to talk."

Sam's throat closed again and he nodded.

He would have been happy sitting there with Dean's comforting touch for a lot longer, but his brother was still badly injured, and that spurred him on.

"Think I should check the car again?" he asked.

"Sure," Dean said, leaning back with a sigh.

Sam went to the trunk to grab some bottled water and returned to look under the Impala's hood. The steam had dissipated, and he unscrewed the cap for the coolant and poured the water in.

He really hoped the car would start as he got back behind the wheel and put the key in.

The Impala protested a bit and Sam bit his lip.

"Come on, Baby," Dean coaxed.

Finally, her engine turned over and Sam breathed a sigh of relief with a slightly breathy laugh. He turned around as Dean gave him a weak smile.

"See? No harm done."

"Yeah, you're right. Now let's get you to a hospital," Sam said and pulled off the side of the road.

Maybe the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but he was at least convinced that they would be all right that night.


	6. Day Fifteen: Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: (possession, magical healing) Sam is dying and there's only one way Cas can heal him--by possession his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading so far!   
> This one is set sometime after Season 9

Dean stared down at Sam's unconscious figure, lying on one of the cots in the bunker's infirmary. His brother was so pale and his breathing was so shallow that Dean could barely tell he was breathing at all.

"Dean."

Dean startled as Cas came in. He didn't like the look on the angel's face.

"Well?" he asked grimly.

Cas shook his head. "I didn't find anything. I'm sorry."

Dean turned away, running a hand over his face again. "Dammit." A lump was forming in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He wasn't giving up hope yet, he _wouldn't_. Not after everything they had already been though. He wasn't going to lose Sam like this.

It had just been a routine hunt—but then, a lot of their major problems started out that way. It was a soul eater, a particularly nasty kind, that enjoyed ripping its victims' souls apart as it feasted. Sam had been the unlucky one to get caught, and even though Dean had been able to gank the thing before it could finish, it had, according to Cas, still managed to put horrific tears into Sam's soul that had sent him on a very bad downward spiral. And it would kill him if they couldn't find a way to fix it.

He would remember Cas' face for a long time to come. When the angel had inspected Sam's soul, he had gotten a terribly haunted look in his eyes, actually looking close to being sick.

"It's…almost worse than when his soul was pulled out of the Cage," Cas had said, voice choked. "It's hemorrhaging."

Dean shook off the memory and turned back to Cas. "And you're telling me that with all the damn books we have, nothing says anything about repairing a soul?"

Cas shook his head. "I can ask around but…" he stopped and cocked his head to one side. "Well…there may be one thing."

"What?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know if Sam will agree, though," Cas cautioned.

"Cas, Sam doesn't have the ability to agree!"

Cas gave him a stern look. "That's what you said last time too."

Dean frowned. "Last time…what the hell are you talking about?"

Cas sighed. "I might be able to heal him, but I have to do it from inside."

Dean felt his breath leave him. "You mean…like Gadreel did after the trials."

Cas nodded. "Yes. Which is why I don't know if I can get Sam to agree, but…his soul is so delicate, I wouldn't even want to attempt to fix it in this psychical form. A vessel is…unwieldy, even Jimmy though I've had him for years. I wouldn't trust myself not to make a terrible mistake. But if I were to possess Sam, then I could tend him more cautiously, repair the damage with the utmost care."

Dean swallowed. "Look, you know I'm for it. But you need to convince Sam, and make sure he knows what's going on."

"Of course," Cas nodded. He pulled a chair over to Sam's cot and sat down, reached out to place a hand over his forehead. "I'll let you know what he says," he said and closed his eyes.

Dean waited, arms folded across his chest, hoping that Cas would be able to heal his brother, and that Sam would let him.

XXX

Sam lay in the darkness. Everything hurt, he didn't even really know what had happened.

And then suddenly there was a light and a familiar figure appeared.

"Sam."

"C-Cas?" Sam whispered, trying to sit up but his body protested too much and he sank back with a groan.

Cas hurried toward him and knelt, putting a careful hand to his shoulder. "Don't. You've been injured very badly."

"Wh-where are we?" Sam whispered, looking around, but seeing only darkness.

"We're in your head, Sam," Cas said. "You…you haven't woken up for two days. Do you remember the hunt we were on? With the soul eater?"

Sam blinked and suddenly he did remember. He remembered the horrible agony when that thing had gotten its claws into him, the kind of pain he hadn't felt since he'd been in the cage…

He scrambled up, but doubled over with a cry. Blood was gushing out of his body, soaking his clothes. Cas reached out a hand to halt him.

"It injured your soul, Sam, that's what you're feeling right now," Cas said, expression tight. "They only look like physical wounds to you because we're in your subconscious."

Sam shook, breathing heavily, trying to understand.

"Sam, I need you to listen to me," Cas said firmly, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I can heal you, but only from in here, you understand?"

Sam blinked. "I…" He coughed, and blood spilled over his lips. He reached out for Cas but his hand went right through the angel.

Cas gave him a sad look. "I would need your permission to come in. But I promise not to stay longer than it takes to heal you."

Sam shuddered. This was all so much. It still didn't feel like it was long enough since Gadreel, but…this was Cas. He was family. Sam always trusted him with his life.

"Okay," he whispered.

Cas cocked his head. "Is that a yes?"

Sam nodded, pressing his lips into a firm line. "Yes."

The glow got a lot more intense and suddenly Cas was solid, kneeling beside him and propping Sam up against his chest.

"Are you sure you're okay with me being in here?" Cas asked him.

Sam nodded. "I trust you," he whispered, before doubling over. "But god it hurts…"

"Let me begin healing you," Cas said, and picked Sam up as if he weighed nothing.

Before Sam knew it, he was in a facsimile of his room at the bunker and Cas was lying him down on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt to better see his wounds.

"It will take a while," he cautioned, "And I'm sure it won't be pleasant, but I'm also sure I'll be able to heal you completely within the next couple days."

Sam nodded wearily. "And Dean?"

"He's worried, but I told him you'll be fine."

Sam sighed and watched as Cas placed a hand above a deep wound in his chest and a warm light emanated from him as his flesh—or rather, Sam supposed, his soul—began to close slowly.

"Just rest now," Cas told him.

Sam allowed his eyes to slide shut and rested, comforted by the warmth of Cas's grace as the angel healed him.

XXX

Dean sat anxiously beside Sam's cot. Cas' empty vessel slumped in a chair on the other side. Dean wasn't entirely sure if he should do something like put an IV into it, but he figured Cas would have let him know.

He was worried though. Cas had been with Sam for almost three days now, and Dean didn't really see any change. Well…Sam did look a little less pale, perhaps. He hoped that was a good sign.

And then suddenly, Cas' grace flowed out of Sam's mouth and back into his vessel.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed.

The angel blinked, rolling his shoulders with a wince, but he smiled as he looked over at Dean and leaned over to place a hand on Sam's forehead.

"He'll be okay now," he assured the elder brother. "He might sleep for a while longer, but all the damage is healed."

Dean slumped in relief, running a hand over his face. "Cas, thanks."

"He's my family too," was all Cas said and Dean smiled.

A few hours later, Sam stirred and Dean was right there when he woke up.

"Dean?" Sam asked groggily, reaching up with a weak hand to rub his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean said, putting a hand on his arm. "How you feeling?"

"Tired," Sam sighed. "But that's all."

"Good," Dean said. "Let me get you some water."

Sam nodded and when Dean got back and he had taken a few cautious sips, he said, "Hey, thanks for giving me the choice this time."

Dean smiled sadly. "I wouldn't do that to you again. Not like that. I'm just glad Cas was able to help."

"Me too," Sam said and his eyes started to slide shut again. "Tired."

Dean chuckled, reaching out to pull the covers further over him. "You just rest then, Sammy."

Sam sighed and settled in, soon fast asleep.

Dean reached out to brush the hair out of his face and sighed in relief.

Maybe he should get some sleep as well now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @ LadyWallace if you want updates and more fanfiction (and art)


	7. Day Eighteen: Panic! at the Disco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: (panic attack) Cas is reminded on Naomi and has a panic attack. Dean helps him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back to my roots with some Season 8 "Great Escapist" tags XD

" _You're a spanner in the works. How many times am I going to have to drill into that brain of yours?"_

"Cas?"

Castiel jumped, turning around to see Dean standing a few yards away in the library where Castiel had been sitting. He frowned.

"You good?"

Castiel blinked hard, forcing down the panic that welled up in his throat. His hand traveled toward his stomach, but all he felt under his shirt was a scar now that was pretty much healed. There was no comforting weight of the angel tablet there anymore. No reassurance that Naomi was not going to control him again. He'd heard her whispering in his head recently and he knew it was just his mind, just his memories induced by the trauma, but still…

"Cas, hey!"

He finally looked up to meet Dean's eyes, breaking out of his trance completely, swallowing hard.

"Are you good, man?" Dean asked again, taking a cautious step forward.

"Yes, I'm fine," Castiel said. "I was just…thinking."

Dean gave him a knowing look and Castiel straightened his shoulders to try to appear less affected.

"Okay, well, we've got a case, and Sammy's still pretty sick so I'm making him stay here. It's not far, so hopefully I'll be back by morning."

Castiel straightened further. "Dean, let me go with you. You shouldn't go alone."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I don't exactly need a babysitter, and I don't know whether you're recovered enough yet…"

"I'm good," Castiel said firmly. Wanting, no, needing, to get out and do something. Anything to keep his mind off of Naomi and what she did to him.

Dean eyed him again, but finally nodded, and, of course, he should know what Castiel was going through.

"Okay, let me just tell Sam, and I'll meet you at the car."

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his hand against his scar again before he headed out to the Impala.

About an hour later, they were pulling up in front of a dentist office.

"Is this where the victim was murdered?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, the dentist himself, attacked during a routine cleaning," Dean replied. "Best guess is a vamp, but you never know."

He handed Castiel an FBI badge and they got out, heading inside.

They asked the other dentists and nurses who had been there that day some questions, and then went to see the crime scene.

The instant Castiel stepped into the room, he had to fight back another wave of panic.

The chair. It was just a chair. He knew this, and yet it looked _so similar_ to the one Naomi had strapped him to, tortured him…

His mind produced the image of metal restraints on this chair, and the blood that coated it didn't help.

Moving on from that was the tray of tools that lay scattered on the floor. The drill…hanging off its cord, and covered in blood, resting over top of a dried red puddle on the floor.

"Yikes, maybe the dentist said he wouldn't take the guy's insurance," Dean quipped, crouching down.

"D-don't," Castiel choked out.

_How many times am I going to have to drill into your head?_

_I want you to kill Dean Winchester, Castiel._

Castiel staggered back and tripped over a set of drawers, falling heavily. He gasped, unable to get his breath, he couldn't move—was Naomi taking him over again? He dragged himself into the corner, pressing himself against it as he fought for breath, unable to get the sound of the drill out of his head. The pain, and the dullness that overcame his mind when the other angles dragged him out of the chair and sent him back to earth…

"Cas!"

Someone touched him and he flipped, crying out as he fought to get away.

The hands instantly let go and the figure leaned back. "Hey, it's just me, it's Dean."

Dean? No, Dean shouldn't be here. But then, maybe it was one of the fake Deans. The hundreds of fake Deans that Castiel had been forced to slaughter. If that was the case, then he refused. He knew Naomi would torture him again, but he couldn't do it. Not again. Not again…

"Cas," the voice was quieter, and he heard a whimpering sound. Was it one of the Dean clones he had already injured? No…no, it was coming from him, he realized.

"Cas, listen to me, buddy, you just need to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath."

Castiel blinked, trying to see the figure more clearly, and as it came into focus, he saw it was Dean. The _real_ Dean, he realized upon viewing his soul.

But if that was the case…

"D-Dean," he gasped. "We need to get out of here!" He surged forward, grabbing the elder Winchester by the sleeve, but Dean caught his shoulders and squeezed, grounding him.

"Cas, hey, listen to me. We're not in danger. We're investigating, remember? In the dentist office."

Castiel continued to breathe heavily, his hands gripping Dean's jacket tightly, heart fluttering in his chest and his head aching.

"Cas, we're just at the dentist office," Dean repeated.

Dentist office? Castiel looked around, seeing the white walls, the blood covered chair and torture implements. He slammed his eyes shut, gasping for breath as he shook.

"Cas." Dean's hands came up and slid from his shoulders to his face, holding it between his warm palms. "Cas, you're not in Heaven. You're right here, with me, okay? You're all right."

Castiel breathed again, and cracked his eyes open. This time all he could see was Dean's concerned eyes staring back at him.

"Hey, there you are," he said softly, smiling a little. "Can you try breathing a little slower?"

Castiel did, taking a deep breath as Dean matched it, coaxing him. He let it out shakily, but with the next one the room became clear again. He took another shuddering breath and swallowed hard.

"Not in heaven?" he asked, voice shaking. He couldn't even care at the moment.

"No," Dean told him firmly. "Just a dentist office."

Castiel took another breath and slumped, arms wrapping around himself as he started to shake.

Dean simply pulled him in close and wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back as Castiel continued to focus on breathing and not panicking again.

"How are you doing? Better?" he asked quietly. "Think you can get out of here now?"

Castiel nodded against Dean's shoulder and the other man pulled away slightly before helping him up. He purposefully stood between Castiel and the chair, and ushered the angel out of the room and the office entirely.

The sun hit Castiel's face and he took a deep breath, feeling a little better out in the open here. Dean grabbed his keys and opened the Impala up. Castiel slumped into the passenger seat.

"Just sit there for a second." He went to get something and Castiel slumped, lowering his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry…I…I shouldn't have come. I suppose I'm still not ready."

Dean was crouching in front of him in the next second, handing him a bottle of water. "It's all right, man, really. I get it. It took me a long time to adjust after getting back from Hell, and even then, I wasn't being mind-controlled."

Castiel flinched and Dean sighed. "Look, sometimes you can't control how you'll act under certain circumstances, no matter how much you want to. It sucks ass, but sometimes that's just the way it is."

Castiel took a shuddering breath, staring at the bottle of water. "I just…keep thinking about the fact I don't have the tablet with me anymore. It was the only thing keeping Naomi out of my head, Dean. What if she can control me again now that it's gone?"

"She's not gonna. Not on my watch. Never again," Dean said firmly.

"You can't promise that," Castiel said tiredly.

"I can do my damn best," Dean said. "Look, Cas, you'll be okay, and so will Sam and I. You don't have to feel bad for having a panic attack or anything. But let me know if you start feeling like this, okay? You don't have to act tough, I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I thought I was, until…" Castiel thought about the scene in the dentist office again, and shuddered, gripping the water bottle until it crinkled under his hands.

"Yeah, I get it," Dean said grimly. "And like I said, it's okay. Just tell me if something is bothering you." He patted Castiel on the knee and stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked.

"Calling another hunter in on this. I'm taking you home."

Castiel felt his heart sink with guilt. "Dean, you don't need to do that…"

"I should have done it anyway, I've got a sick little brother and a recovering angel to look after. Not really the best time to go on a hunt."

Castiel stared at him for a long moment as Dean quickly talked to another hunter, telling him what they knew so far and the location. Then he got back into the car and turned the engine over.

"I think you deserve a night in. I'll make burgers," Dean told him.

Castiel sighed, and leaned back against the seat. Part of him still felt a little guilty that Dean had called off the hunt just because of him but…

Another part of him was grateful to have such good friends. He knew that even Naomi couldn't tear that from his head.


	8. Day Twenty-Two: Do These Tacos Taste Funny to You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: (withdrawal) Sam had to use his demon powers to save Dean. Cas helps him through the demon blood withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some More Sam and Cas centric h/c :) Thanks as always to everyone who has been reading these!
> 
> This is set sometime during S5 but let's just pretend that Cas can still heal.

Castiel stood beside Dean's bed, shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. He reached over to touch the elder Winchester's forehead, closing his eyes as he double-checked Dean's vitals, making sure there was no more bleeding inside his skull.

This one had been close. If Castiel hadn't been there, if Sam hadn't done what he'd done…

Castiel felt Bobby's presence as the old hunter walked into the room, leaning against the door jamb.

"How is he?" he asked, his gruff voice barely concealing the worry he obviously felt for Dean's condition—and probably Sam's as well.

"He's completely healed now," Castiel said quietly. "But he'll probably rest for a little while. The trauma was…well, despite my healing ability, I can only imagine his body will still be experiencing a small amount of shock."

Bobby nodded and stepped further into the room. "I'll sit with him for a while; I'm doing research anyway," he offered, before nodding out the door. "Mind checking in on Sam for me?"

Castiel nodded, knowing what Bobby meant— _guard Sam_. Castiel didn't really think he was a "flight-risk" as Dean would say, but he might hallucinate, and he would be in pain.

That's what demon blood withdrawal did to you.

The thought of the situation still haunted Castiel. If he had been able to get there sooner…but it did no good to think about it now. At least he had been able to heal Dean, and really, if Sam's hadn't drunk the demon blood, both him and his brother would definitely be dead. It was a hard choice, and perhaps even a bad one, but Castiel honestly couldn't fault him for it.

He made his way down to Bobby's saferoom and opened the door without knocking.

Sam was slumped over the sink, running a cloth over his face, but he looked up in surprise as Castiel came in.

"H-how's Dean?" he asked. Castiel could see the trembling through his entire body, the minute twitches that told of the torturous withdrawal he was going through currently.

"He's resting; he's all healed," Castiel assured him.

Sam's shoulders slumped slightly as he pressed the cloth to his face again. He'd stripped to his t-shirt, but he still looked hot, sweat beading on his brow and sticking his shirt to his skin.

"Th-thanks," he said with a small smile. "If you hadn't showed up…"

Castiel sighed. "I only wish I had shown up sooner."

"Yeah…" Sam said quickly. "So do I."

It was not an accusation toward Castiel though, but toward himself. The angel furrowed his brow. "Sam, you did what you had to do to save your brother. There were so many demons…you didn't really have another choice. No one blames you."

"Yet," Sam bit out. "Dean hasn't found out yet. He doesn't know. And I know him. He'll be pissed when he knows I drank demon blood just to save him."

Castiel sighed. Yes, Dean might very well be angry. At first. Castiel knew the elder Winchester well enough by now to know that his anger 90% of the time revolved around fear. And Sam knew that too, but the demon blood was a sore subject between them, and to Sam especially.

"Dean will understand." Castiel cocked his head to one side. "Eventually." He amended. "In any case, he would have done the same in your position and you know it."

Sam let out a humorless chuckle and covered his face with his hands. "Yeah, but still. He's gonna be pissed." He suddenly gave a sharp gasp, folding over, an arm wrapping around his stomach.

Castiel stepped forward not sure what to do. "Sam?"

"I—I'm fine. Just…cramps." He sank down onto the cot, curled around his middle. Castiel watched, helpless. He really wished he could do something to heal Sam from this, but his angelic healing just wouldn't work on the demon blood.

"Is there anything I can do?" the angel asked.

"N-no, I…gah!" Sam curled up, nearly toppling off the cot. Castiel rushed forward the final step to grab him, carefully lowering him down on his side on the cot. Sam groaned, burying his face in the small pillow.

"You should…probably lock me…down," he gritted out then gasped. "This might…get bad."

"You'll be fine," Castiel told him, gripping his shoulder. "I won't let you hurt yourself. Or anyone else."

Sam whimpered and Castiel awkwardly rubbed his shoulder. He didn't really know what to do. Obviously, Dean, or even Bobby, would be more ideal in this situation, but he was all Sam had right now and he was going to do his best to look after the younger Winchester.

He grabbed the wet cloth Sam had been washing his face with and carefully started to do the same, wiping the sweat from his brow and the back of his neck, trying to keep him cool. Sam shifted slightly, but the ministrations seemed to be helping him calm a little at least.

Castiel watched him drift off, glad that Sam seemed to be getting a little sleep. Maybe he would be able to sleep off the worst of it…

Unfortunately, his hope turned sour only half an hour later when Sam started twitching in his sleep and then rolled onto his back, one hand groping.

"Sam?" Castiel asked quietly.

"N-no, please, Dean…" Sam pleaded in his sleep. "P-please! I—I saved you. Don't—don't leave!"

"Sam!" Castiel called, trying to snap him out of it. He reached out to touch Sam's shoulder but the younger Winchester lashed out at him, catching him across the face.

"No! please!"

"Sam, it's not real," Castiel pleaded, grabbing Sam's flailing hands and pressing them down against his chest, wincing as Sam flailed, hitting his legs and head on the metal sides of the camp cot. "Listen to me. It's just a dream. Please Sam."

Sam groaned, tossing again before he finally seemed to calm, eyes opening. But they didn't seem to be seeing anything.

"Ruby?" he whispered. "Y-you're dead."

Castiel looked where Sam was staring, but there was obviously nothing there. The younger Winchester shouted though and scooted off the bed, and instantly installed himself into a corner of the room.

"Sam!" Castiel cried standing up as he took a step toward him.

"No! Don't! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!" he screamed.

"Sam, it's me," Castiel said and briefly showed his halo, not enough to hurt Sam's eyes, but hopefully enough to get through to him. "It's Castiel. Ruby's dead."

Sam took a shuddering breath and blinked several times before his eyes seemed to focus once more. Castiel hid his halo again and crouched down cautiously.

"See? Just me. You're in Bobby's saferoom."

Another shuddering breath as Sam wrapped his arms around his knees. "Cas?"

The angel slid a little closer, nodding. "It's me."

Sam curled a little further into himself, still shuddering and pressed himself further into the corner between the shelf and the wall.

"You know where you are now?" Castiel asked him.

Sam nodded jerkily. "I—I think so."

"Good," Castiel said. "Do you want to go back over to the cot?"

Sam shook his head with another shuddering breath. "N-no. It…it feels safer over here."

"Okay," Castiel said, not questioning him.

Sam remained curled up, arms wrapped around his knees as he seemed to focus on breathing, his body still twitching sporadically.

"C-Cas?" he said after a long moment. "I, um…can you…?" he bit his lip, but huffed a breath. "Whatever you did before, with the light, can you do it again?"

"My halo, you mean?" Castiel asked, frowning.

Sam nodded jerkily, looking embarrassed. "Y-yeah, that. It just…made me feel better. I could even see it through the hallucinations."

Castiel smiled. "Of course. Just please tell me if it's too bright." He allowed the light of his halo to shine out of him, covering his form in a warm, bluish glow.

Sam seemed to relax instantly when he saw it and slumped more firmly into the corner, closing his eyes. "Th-thanks," he whispered.

Castiel smiled. "It's no problem, Sam."

And it wasn't at all. Castiel was more than happy to be Sam's nightlight if it would at all help him. He would do anything to aid his family.

XXX

Sam woke to a warm light emanating from somewhere close. He remembered multiple disturbing dreams, but during them, he had always sought out the light, and it had made him instantly feel better. A beacon to guide him home. It took him a while to be able to open his eyes, though. His body hurt, and his head ached, but when he did finally open his eyes, the light was still there.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam blinked and Cas was sitting by his cot in Bobby's saferoom, the glow emanating from the angel.

"Cas," he croaked.

Castiel leaned over him, and lowered the light. "How are you feeling, Sam?"

"Mmm," Sam murmured, wincing as he reached up to rub his eyes. "Not great, but I think most of the demon blood has worked its way out."

Cas nodded. "It has," he said and looked up as the door to the saferoom opened.

Dean came in, looking tired, but there was also a look of relief on his face as he saw Sam awake.

"Hey, kiddo," he said and forced a small smile. "You feeling okay?"

Sam just stared at him, unable to help squirming slightly. It was just…strange.

"You're not mad?" he asked softly.

"Oh, he already did his yellin' to me," Bobby said as he appeared behind Dean, folding him arms across his chest and shaking his head fondly. "But I think I got it into his hard head what really happened."

Dean looked sadly toward Sam as he came into the room and sank onto the side of the small cot. "Look, you know I never wanted you to use the demon blood again, but…I get it. And, if I were in your position and had your powers, obviously, I would have done the same thing."

Sam glanced over at Cas and the angel shot him a knowing look with a small twitch of his lips.

Dean's hand was on Sam's arm, squeezing gently. "It's okay, Sammy. I'm just sorry you had to."

Sam felt his eyes prick, and his throat swell with emotion and he impulsively sat up and wrapped his arms around his brother.

Dean chuckled, but held him tightly without joking.

"Thanks," Sam whispered, and looked over at Cas as well, adding him into the thanks.

"No problem, little Brother," Dean said.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, just glad he had this family as his support.

He knew he wouldn't have gotten nearly as far without them.


	9. Day Twenty-Four: You're Not Making Any Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: (forced mutism) When Castiel refuses to do what Naomi wants, she takes measures into her own hands. There's nothing worse to Cas than having to stand, silent, while the Winchesters are in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Season 8 fic ;)

There was nothing. Castiel was wrapped in darkness as it ate into him, forcing his compliance.

Well, he wasn't entirely alone. There was _her_.

"You will obey me, Castiel," Naomi said.

"I won't hurt Dean and Sam," he gritted out, throat raw from screaming.

"Don't be cute," Naomi snapped. "What I want is for you to eliminate them. Permanently. You'll kill them, Castiel."

He knew that, he had known that, she had been telling him that for—what was it now, days? He didn't even know anymore. There had been clones of Dean and sometimes Sam too, at first, and he'd slaughtered them even though it had hurt because he thought it would keep Naomi content. And it wasn't like they were the real thing.

He kept telling himself that.

But Naomi had known. How could she not? She was in his head. He had no secrets anymore. He had no sense of self.

He didn't belong to himself anymore, according to her. He belonged to Heaven.

He belonged to her.

He suddenly felt the restraints give and sank to the floor in a humiliatingly submissive pose at her feet. Naomi reached down and gripped his chin.

"Fine. I see you'll continue refusing until I am forced to punish you so much you cease to be useful to me. So instead of wasting my time, I'll make it simple. You'll be nothing more than what you should be. A vessel of intent."

Castiel looked up at her, mouth open in confusion, but she suddenly snapped her fingers and everything went black.

XXX

"Dude, I asked if you had ever heard of anything like this before."

Castiel blinked, shaking himself slightly. Had…had Naomi been in his head again? He was trying to find out, but, honestly it was getting harder to tell. Harder to tell what was real, and how much time slipped that he couldn't remember anymore.

"Cas, are you okay?" Sam asked him, and Castiel saw that his brow was furrowed.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I was just thinking." He glanced at the research books. A hunt, that was right. "I think it sounds like a gorgon. You know, like from the Greek tales."

"Medusa?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Well, not exactly Medusa, but, similar. They actually paralyze their victims with venom, not their sight. The stories always got that wrong."

"Oh, wow," Sam said, glancing at the books.

"I guess that would explain the snakeskins at the scene," Dean said, shutting the book he was reading. "Okay then, let's go. You coming, Cas?"

The angel was torn. Should he come? It would be nice to just hunt again. And the Winchesters might need help. One of them was certain to get paralyzed, and it would be easier if he were there to heal them on the scene.

He stood, nodding. "Yes."

XXX

It was a disorienting feeling, being pulled from the heat of battle, back to the silence of Naomi's office in Heaven.

"What do you want?" he demanded of her, taking a step before angels came forward and grabbed his arms.

Naomi stood from her desk. "It's time we end this, Castiel."

Castiel struggled against the other angels as she approached him. "What do you mean?"

"I told you, Castiel, if you won't kill the Winchesters yourself, I will take matters into my own hands."

"No," Castiel growled, "Don't—!"

He was suddenly back, making him give a double-take as he looked around and failed to see the Winchesters. He didn't want to call out because he didn't know where the gorgon was.

He used his senses to search for them, and could feel them nearby.

Something moved through the old mine and Castiel carefully slid around a corner, pressing his back up against the wall.

He could sense the gorgon creeping through the rubble, hissing slightly. She was nearby.

"Cas?!" Dean's voice came softly, and Castiel glanced to the side, seeing him and Sam carefully picking through the mine. The gorgon perked up and slipped around another corner to hide.

"Where the hell could he have gone?" Dean grumbled. "I turned my back on him for one second." The worry in his voice was palpable. They were getting closer, and about to fall right into the gorgon's trap.

Castiel made to move out from his position and shout a warning to them before attacking the gorgon.

But that didn't happen.

He didn't make it one step before agony crashed through his body and he was suddenly in his head, back in the darkness. He looked around frantically, but something was covering his eyes. Not physically, but that was somehow worse. Somehow Naomi had made him blind.

"Castiel," she said, voice echoing in the darkness.

"What is this?" he whispered before something clenched in his throat and he choked. Pain ripped through his head and he collapsed to his knees with a gasp.

Naomi came toward him and gripped his hair, pulling his head up.

"That's right, you're just going to sit here and be a good, obedient angel while that creature does your work for you."

Castiel tried to protest but nothing came out of his mouth. He couldn't speak at all. He couldn't see, he struggled, but he was completely under Naomi's control and he couldn't seem to break out of it.

She smirked, all too satisfied as she crouched down to get into his face. "Don't worry, I will let you watch. After all, I suppose it would be cruel of me if you never knew how they died."

The veil was suddenly lifted and Castiel blinked in the dim light of the mine again. Sam and Dean were closer, creeping ever nearer to the gorgon lying in wait.

Castiel's back was pressed against the stone, out of sight, and without the ability to move closer, or move at all. Naomi had locked him down. He tried to shout with everything he had, but there was no sound. Only pain that ripped through his throat, blood pooling up into his mouth.

"Here," Dean said. "There's another room back here."

Sam followed him and that was when the gorgon struck…

Castiel forced himself back into his mind's eye. "Please!" he mouthed to Naomi.

She stared at him, impassive. "This was always going to be the outcome, Castiel. You should be glad that it wasn't by your hands. One day you may thank me for that mercy."

But it wasn't a mercy, and it _was_ by his hands.

He glanced back toward the scene unfolding, horrified to see the gorgon jump out at the Winchesters and spit venom directly into Sam's face.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, and raised his brass blade. But the gorgon was fast and she backhanded the blade out of his grip before catching him around the throat.

Castiel tried to move, but he could barely twitch a muscle. He watched Dean go down, fury and desperation ripping through him.

He turned back inside to glower at Naomi who was still standing there. Something dripped down Castiel's face, and at first, he thought it was tears, but the tang of iron filled his nose, and he realized it was blood.

Naomi's face contorted into a snarl. "Castiel…do not defy me."

Castiel shifted his arm, then slowly rose. Naomi raised a hand.

"Don't try anything, you won't get far," she warned.

With a roar of defiance, Castiel forced himself upright, eyes and throat bleeding.

"This is my head," he gritted from between clenched teeth. "Get. Out!"

He slammed his hand into her chest and savored her shocked expression before she disappeared, thrown backward. Almost instantly, he felt as if the strings she had attached to him snapped.

He sagged, gasping, and blinked, once again back in the mine.

He saw the gorgon standing over Sam and Dean's prone bodies, hissing in pleasure. Castiel rushed in, raising his angel blade and slammed it into her back.

The monster hissed and spat, but eventually slumped to the ground, limp and dead.

Castiel dropped his blade and fell to his knees. He summoned his healing ability, terrified that any second Naomi would take control of him again.

He touched the brothers' foreheads, forcing the paralyzing venom from their bodies and they began stirring within a few seconds.

"Cas?" Dean murmured.

Castiel sat back on his heels, relief flooding through him. But there was something he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he said, and stood. "I need to leave."

He had to get as far away from them as possible before Naomi took control of him again.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked groggily as he sat up.

"I can't explain, but I have to go," Castiel said, standing.

Dean caught his arm. "Cas wait…what the hell happened to you?"

Castiel suddenly remembered the blood that was dripping down his cheeks, more on his lips. He reached up and wiped it away on a sleeve. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, are you hurt?" Dean demanded as Sam also frowned with concern.

Castiel pulled out of Dean's grip, growing desperate, feeling the second tick away. "You don't understand, I have to go!"

"Cas, come on, whatever is wrong, you can tell us," Sam coaxed. "And you shouldn't run off without your blade."

Castiel glanced at the blade on the ground, but couldn't pick it up. Not around them. He would rather leave himself defenseless. Sam and Dean stared at him as the younger Winchester held the blade out to him.

"Cas, come on, we know," Dean said. "we know something's up. But we can't help you unless you explain it."

Castiel looked between them, his blade, the blood staining his coat, the dead gorgon. It had all been too close and there would be more close calls.

But…maybe they could lock him down in the bunker. At least until they could find a way to make sure Naomi wouldn't take control of him again.

He sank to his knees, exhausted, throat tight and still sore. Something akin to a sob broke from him. Dean reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"Cas, you can tell us," he said.

Castiel looked up to meet both pairs of eyes. They were his family. He could trust them.

He took a shuddering breath and finally spoke. "There's something I've neglected to tell you, but you need to know…"


	10. Day Twenty-Eight: Such Wow, Many Normal, Very Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: (accidents, hunting season) Sam and Dean are stranded in the woods, injured. Bobby and Cas team up to find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the month is almost over! The next SPN story will be posted on the 31st and will be a full-fledged one-shot to end the month so stay tuned ^_^

Dean dragged himself back over to Sam, collapsing beside his brother with a gasp.

"Dean?" Sam murmured.

"Don't move," Dean told him worriedly. "I'm just gonna try to clean this up, okay?"

Sam hummed, and nodded before wincing. Dean was afraid he had a concussion, though that was only one of their many worries right now.

Sam's leg was worse.

He didn't know why they always seemed to have the worst luck. It wasn't enough for Sam to get mauled by a black dog out in the middle of nowhere, but Dean had also gotten shot. By a hunter.

And not their kind of hunter. The kind who usually only shot Bambi's mom. That's just what happened when you were out in the woods during hunting season, he supposed. Still. The guy could have been a little more responsible.

The guy might have even gone for help if he hadn't been mauled by the same black dog that had gotten Sam.

Overall, this trip, which was supposed to be a milk run, ended up with both of them unable to walk out of the woods, and no cell service to call for help.

Dean had tried praying to Cas but the angel couldn't fly anymore what with being cut off from heaven and all, so he didn't know when or if he was going to get there. Or if he'd even heard him.

Dean turned to Sam with the river water he'd grabbed, soaking his last clean handkerchief and trying his best to flush the wounds in Sam's thigh and side. His brother flinched and whimpered. Dean worriedly noted the redness of the wounds and the heat of Sam's skin. He had a fever, and was terrified that sepsis would set in if they stayed out here too much longer without even the ability to clean the wounds properly. He hadn't even had his flask on him. Dean was lucky the same thing hadn't happened to him, though that might have been because he'd removed the bullet from his own leg in the running water of the stream making extra careful to wash the wound. He'd thrown up from the pain, but it had probably helped keep it from getting infected. Unfortunately, he couldn't drag Sam over to the stream. He could barely drag himself.

It was overall a bad situation. The only really good thing was that it felt like the apocalypse couldn't reach them out here.

Silver lining and all, Dean supposed wryly.

Sam cried out as Dean flushed the tender wounds as well as he could. "Easy," he murmured, patting his brother's chest.

"D-Dean," Sam swallowed hard. "N-no point in…"

"Shh," Dean hushed him. "It's better than nothing. And don't worry, we'll get help. It's hunting season, remember? Someone will be around eventually."

But it had been what? Two, three days now? Dean wasn't even sure anymore, and no one had crossed their path. They were deep in the woods.

Dean felt his brother's temperature again, and sat back, wincing as he stretched his own bad leg out. He looked up at the trees and closed his eyes. _Cas, come on. If you can hear me…we really need help._

_XXX_

Bobby Singer wasn't really surprised to see the angel at his door, but he was surprised to see him without Sam and Dean.

Of course, his unasked questions were answered only a second later.

"Sam and Dean are in trouble," the angel said without greeting or preamble.

Bobby sighed wearily. When were those idjits _not_ in trouble? "I'll go get my stuff."

Ten minutes later, he was on the road with an angel riding shotgun.

"You said Dean prayed to you?" Bobby asked.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I can only assume their phones aren't working. They must be far out in the woods."

Bobby nodded. He knew the area they had been heading to, but he didn't know how deep they'd had to go. Truth be told, he felt a little guilty for not noticing their absence. He'd been so caught up in research that he hadn't realized it was two days later and the boys hadn't so much as called in. Usually cases involving black dogs weren't that complicated.

"Once we get there, will you be able to sniff them out?" Bobby asked.

Castiel frowned, glancing over at him. "I'm… not a hunting dog. And with the angel proof markings I put on their ribs, I won't be able to tell that it's them. I may be able to sense their human souls, however. But I'm not at full power, otherwise I would have simply flown there when Dean prayed to me."

"I know, I know," Bobby said, annoyed, but it wasn't the angel's fault.

When they got to the woods, Bobby pulled up at the head of the nearest trail and got out, slinging his bag over one shoulder and his rifle over the other.

Bobby glanced at the map that was set up. "Well, if no one has found them yet, then best guess is that they're probably out there." He tapped a spot with no trails listed. "There are probably only a few hunters who would go out there, the ones who mean business, but they still might not have come across the boys." Or, there was the other possibility, of course, that Bobby refused to think about. But if Dean had prayed to Cas not that long ago, then they had to still be alive.

"Well, let's go," Bobby said and they started off into the woods.

XXX

Dean tried to keep Sam as cool as possible. He should probably try to drag him down to the river, but he honestly didn't think he had the strength. He might not have any choice later, but right now, he would stick to hobbling back and forth for fresh water with the makeshift crutch he had made out of a branch. For now, about all the energy he had left was spent just sitting there, Sam's head resting on his good leg.

Sam made a sound of discomfort and shifted. Dean stroked his filthy hair out of his eyes, placing the cool cloth on his forehead, mouth pinching with worry. He was sure that Sam's fever had risen just within the last hour.

"Just hold on, Sammy," he whispered to his brother. "Please."

Sam just whimpered in pain and his face contorted as his body shifted slightly.

Dean leaned his head back against the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes.

 _"Cas, come on,"_ he prayed, really hoping the angel could hear him. _"We really need you here, buddy."_

Maybe he was hoping for a miracle that would never come. After all, the angel, like the rest of them, seemed to be out of miracles.

XXX

Bobby and Cas stood over the remains of what appeared to be a hunter. The shredded camouflage jacket and rifle near his hand being the only real indication. They'd have to use dental records to identify him.

"Must have tangled with the black dog the boys were hunting," Bobby mused, wincing at the smell. The body had to be a couple days old now. Already picked over by the forest scavengers.

"Then maybe Sam and Dean aren't too far," Castiel said.

They continued on until Bobby stopped, seeing another corpse.

"Cas."

The angel turned and they studied a large black dog, lying dead, shot multiple times.

"They can't be far from here. Sam! Dean!" Bobby called.

Castiel joined the call and they hurried on until the angel stopped.

"Bobby, there's a river and…I can feel them, I think."

Relief flooded the old hunter as he and the angel raced in the direction Cas was indicating.

And there they found the boys. His boys. Alive.

Bobby thanked whoever might be listening and hurried forward, Cas on his heels.

"There you are," he said.

Dean was sitting with his back against a tree, Sam's head in his lap, and he looked up, eyes wide as if in disbelief as he saw Bobby coming.

"B-Bobby, Cas," he breathed. "That really you?"

Bobby knelt down beside them and reached out and cup Dean's face, smiling. "Yeah, it's really me, ya idjit. What the hell happened?"

"Black dog got Sammy, and…that poor bastard shot me on accident."

Bobby remembered the dead hunter and glanced down at Dean's leg where dirty strips of his shirt were tied tightly around it.

"Sam has a fever," Castiel said, brow furrowed as he knelt as well and touched Sam's forehead.

"Yeah, he's…not doing well," Dean said, swallowing hard. "We need to get him to the hospital."

"I can call the rangers, I have a satellite phone."

"No need," Castiel said and gently shifted Sam away from Dean and up over his shoulder. Sam moaned, but stayed completely unconscious. "As long as Dean can walk out of here."

"I'll make it," Dean grunted, already pushing himself to his feet.

Bobby caught his arm and helped. "You sure, son? It's a long way."

"Better than waiting for them to find us," Dean said and grabbed a makeshift crutch, leaning on that and Bobby as they followed Cas.

"Man am I glad you found us," Dean said quietly. "Thanks."

Bobby smiled and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Anytime."

Later when they finally got to the hospital and Sam and Dean were both taken care of and fed and medicated, Bobby found them in Sam's room. The younger Winchester was still unconscious, but the doctor had said he would make a full recovery once he rested for a few days. He'd still somehow managed to avoid sepsis setting in, despite everything, so with some antibiotics he would be back to normal soon enough.

Dean had obviously made his way to his brother room, with his real crutches and he now sat, slumped, beside the bed, bad leg stretched out and head pillowed on his arms at Sam's shoulder.

Cas sat on the other side of Sam's bed, watching over both of them, their guardian angel. He looked up as Bobby came in.

"They're both going to be fine," he said, seeming to share Bobby's relief.

Bobby nodded, the last of the tension in his chest finally releasing. He pulled up another chair, and sat down to watch over all three of his boys.


	11. Day Thirty-One: Today's Special: Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30 (experiment, whipped, left for dead) S12- Dean is left for dead on the side of the road while Sam and Cas are taken by Ketch to the BMOL headquarters. It's up to Dean and Mary to launch a rescue mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's the end of the month already! Here's an extra long one-shot for you guys today.
> 
> Set Season 12 but kinda AU

It was a dark night. Moonlight caught the blood trickling across the asphalt as the echoing of a gunshot permeated the atmosphere.

Dean Winchester lay on the road, bullet in his chest.

The van spun away into the night, not turning back.

Everything was still, the moonlight ambivalent to the scene it was shining upon.

Then Dean's fingers twitched.

A deep, wrenching gasp was drawn into his lungs and Dean's body shuddered as he rolled onto his side, dragging air into his lungs.

"Son of a bitch," he croaked, reaching up to press his hand to the bullet hole in his chest with a wince. Somehow by some miracle, it seemed to have missed anything vital, lodging against a rib. Dean wasn't sure who or what he had to thank for this; maybe his sternum. Probably Arthur Ketch's sadism. After all, killing him with a headshot would have been too quick for that bastard.

"Sam," Dean called hoarsely, looking around, coughing. "Cas?"

They weren't lying beside him. He craned his head around and saw the Impala, door still open from where he had gotten out. He dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the car, looking inside.

Not there either.

Dean cursed. Of course. Ketch had them both, he had to, and the British bastard had just left Dean here, lying in the road, thinking—stupidly—that he was dead.

Well, it wasn't going to be a good day for Ketch, because he wasn't. And he'd taken Dean's brothers. And that was something that wasn't easily forgiven.

He struggled to open the trunk of the car, grabbing some first aid stuff as he fought the urge to pass out from the pain. He breathed steadily and sank into the Impala, grabbing his phone.

He may not know exactly where the Men of Letters' base was, but he knew who would.

The call went through and was thankfully picked up after only a couple rings.

"Dean?"

"Mom," Dean croaked, rummaging through the med kit. "That bastard Ketch and the Brits took Sammy and Cas."

"What?"

"I need to know where their base is," Dean gritted his teeth, hissing slightly as he peeled his shirt up, holding it between his teeth briefly as he pressed a cloth to the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

"Dean, are you okay? Where are you?"

Dean looked around, and took the shirt out of his mouth. "Doesn't matter, just text me the location."

"Dean, I'm not far, I'm coming. You'll need help. Trust me, there's no way you'll get in there by yourself. But I can."

Dean bit his lip, but yeah, he knew she was right. "Okay." He told her where he was and she hung up.

Dean sat back, bracing himself as he closed his eyes briefly. Then he tilted the rearview mirror so he could see better and grabbed a pair of tweezers then went to work. He was going to have to get this bullet out before he took on the Men of Letters to save his family.

XXX

Sam couldn't see anything. He was being dragged around several corners, stumbling between two captors. They'd dosed him with something and it was messing with his head, making him clumsy. Images from how he had gotten into this situation swirled in his head.

_"We're taking you in," Ketch said, standing nonchalantly in front of the van that had pulled up in the middle of the road, blocking the Impala._

_"Like hell you are," Dean spat._

_Ketch only sighed as if it were all just an inconvenience. "Sorry, but it's the Old Men. They want you taken in for misconduct and for interrogation. If you resist, well, needless to say, it's not going to go well for you."_

_"It's not going to go well for you if you try to take us by force either," Dean snarled._

_He was already reaching for his gun, when Ketch straight up pulled on Dean and shot him in the chest. It happened so fast Sam didn't even know what had happened until Cas was rushing toward Dean._

_"Dean!" The angel didn't make it either, something exploded and Sam had to turn away, before seeing the angel lying on the ground, Ketch's men hauling him up._

_"Cas! Dean!" Sam cried, and reached for his own gun, but Ketch had his own trained on the younger Winchester._

_"I wouldn't, Sam," he said. "You had best be smart."_

_Sam was about to try for it anyway, but two men tackled him and started hauling him into the van along with Cas._

_"No!" Sam struggled, as a bag was forced over his head and he was slammed into the side of the van, cuffs around his wrists. "Get off!"_

_He was shoved into the back of the van on his stomach, forced down, and something was injected into his neck._

_Sam cried out, and blinked as all the fight left him forcefully. All he could think of was Dean, lying in the road, a hole in his chest…_

Sam was shoved heavily into a chair and the bag over his head was taken off. He blinked, cringing in the sudden bright florescent light.

Ketch was standing in front of him, and patted his cheek roughly. "Come on, then. Wake up, Sam. Can't have you passing out on us so soon."

Sam groaned, and glowered up at the Brit. "Where's Cas?"

Ketch snorted. "The angel? Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. He'll be a great asset to our research team."

Sam surged forward, furious and terrified for Cas, but the other men slammed him back into the seat.

"You've been a very naughty boy; you and your brother," Ketch told him.

Sam swallowed hard, trying not to let his emotions show. He didn't know Dean was dead. He hadn't seen it. He'd just seen him get shot. But still, the blood…

"Oh, don't bother yourself with false hope. No one's coming for you," Ketch said. "But, I will give you the choice to join us. If you repent after your punishment, then I am definitely willing to be lenient."

"You think I'm going to join you?" Sam demanded darkly. "After everything? Yeah, okay, at first I thought it might be a good idea, but I see what you are now. And now all I want to do is kill you."

Ketch sighed wearily. "Well, I suppose that's fair after what I did to your brother. But do understand, Sam, that we will keep you here anyway, until you do what we want. One way or another. However, I am willing to give you the chance to join us under your own volition before we take any drastic measures, and I think a bit of old-fashioned corporal punishment would be a good place to start."

One of the men came over, carrying an actual bullwhip, which he handed to Ketch. The man took it and smirked as he cracked it experimentally and Sam flinched.

"Really, Sam, this is barely a slap to the wrist when it comes to the Letters' punishments. You should count yourself lucky."

Sam was hauled to his feet and divested of his jacket and plaid shirt before he was slammed against the wall and his hands manacled above his head.

He craned his head over his shoulder to see Ketch and the man looked all too pleased with himself. Sam's breath began to come quicker and sharper, before he tried to force the panic down but it wasn't as easy as one would think. One of the guards took out a knife and grabbed the back of Sam's shirt, slashing it open so that the cold air hit Sam's bare back, making him shiver from cold and trepidation.

He didn't know if Dean was okay, he had no idea where Cas was or what was happening to him. And he hadn't been whipped since he'd been with Lucifer in the Cage. Of course, that had been with fire, but…

The whip cracked and seared across Sam's shoulders. He let out a small, bitten-off cry and tensed.

"Do let me know when you feel repentant, Sam," Ketch said darkly as he raised the whip again.

XXX

Castiel woke to a blinding light, lying on his back on a hard surface.

Someone moved around him and he reached out to grab them, only to find he couldn't move. His wrists and ankles were locked to the table he was lying on, and something was covering his mouth so he couldn't make a noise.

Even more horrifying was that he suddenly realized that his clothes were gone and he was only covered by a small blanket across his hips.

"The subject is conscious," someone said and the light shifted, pointed directly into his eyes. He winced and closed them, furious.

"Do you think we need another dose?" someone else asked.

"No, this one shouldn't have worn off yet. Besides, the subject should be awake for this. How else are we going to get accurate readings?"

Castiel's heart began to pound laboriously and he tugged as hard as he could against the restraints. But he seemed incredibly weak. Whatever they had given him obviously worked all too well on angels.

Muddled memories began to resurface. The Men of Letters had stopped them on the road, and when they had gotten out…

_Dean._

Castiel tugged harder, making a sound of fury past the gag in his mouth. Dean had been shot. And then he had been stabbed in the neck with a syringe with something immobilizing. What about Sam then? Where was he? What had they done to him? And Dean, was Dean even still…

"Are you still recording this?" said one of the—were they doctors?

No, obviously not, he realized a second later. These must be the Letters' scientists, which meant Castiel was nothing but an experiment to them.

"Yes," the other replied.

The first scientist nodded and reached over to a tray, taking up some kind of instrument that looked all too familiar. "Beginning test one of ten in our current project—'Halo'. The subject has been subdued efficiently and we will begin with the angelic grace extraction before moving on to our other points and ending with the vivisection."

Castiel's eyes flew wide, and he tugged at the restraints again, but they were sigiled and between that and whatever they had drugged him with, he would have no chance of getting free.

All he could do was watch in horror as the scientist pierced into his arm with the grace removing syringe.

XXX

Dean shook himself to stay alert, but god, he hurt. Every breath was like fire. Even if the bullet had been stopped by a rib, the bone had definitely sacrificed itself for him. He was just trying to stay as calm as possible, reserve his adrenaline for when he needed it. And it wasn't easy staying calm when Sam and Cas were both kidnapped by the insane British Men of Letters and Ketch.

"Dean, are you sure you're okay? Be honest," his mom told him.

He glanced over at her. He'd already let her convince him to drive, though now, his palms were itching for the wheel and his foot for the pedal, even though she was taking Baby as fast as she would go.

"I don't have a choice," Dean said. It's not like they had time to call in help. They didn't know how long Sam and Cas had. "I've had worse."

His mom looked over at him, with an amount of pity that Dean didn't like to see so he turned aside and looked out the window.

The road was empty and dark. It was the middle of the night and no one else was out and about this far outside of…anywhere.

"We'll get them back, Dean," his mom said quietly after a long second.

"Yeah, we will," Dean growled under his breath. Because there was no way they would be leaving that compound without the rest of their family. Dean wasn't going to have that. And as for Arthur Ketch…well, if the night didn't end with Dean putting a bullet between his eyes, then he might as well go down swinging.

Those Brits were going to find out really quick what happens to those who mess with the Winchesters.

XXX

Sam slumped, panting, against the wall, his weight pulling down on the manacles around his wrists, drawing blood. His back was singing in pain and his legs were trembling, fighting to keep him upright.

Ketch strode toward him, leaning in, and threading his fingers through his hair before hauling his head back. Sam let out a grunt of protest. "Well, Sam? Have you learned your lesson?"

Sam craned his head to glower at Ketch. "Screw you." He spat, and the saliva landed on Ketch's shoulder.

The man curled his lip in disgust and slammed Sam's face against the wall before taking his handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaning his shirt. "Disgusting. You American hunters are no better than animals."

Sam forced his head back up, blood running from his nose and broken lip. "Yeah, well, at least we're not psychopaths."

Ketch sniffed and reached for Sam's raw back, digging his fingers into some of the deeper cuts that the whip had created.

Sam arched his back, unable to suppress the cry that escaped his throat. He locked his knees and just barely managed to stay upright.

"I can see you are not at all sorry yet," Ketch commented. "Time for another lesson, I suppose." He didn't seem at all disappointed in that.

Ketch stepped back and Sam braced himself for another round of torture, biting his lip to keep the prick of fear and helplessness from making his eyes water.

A cry escaped his throat as the lash burned across his back again and again and again, and he was lost in a sea of agony.

XXX

The compound seemed pretty quiet when Dean and his mom pulled up, stopping pretty far down the road and inspecting it through binoculars.

"How many do you think are in there right now?" Dean asked.

Mary shook her head. "No telling. Usually there's about three or four guards who patrol the perimeter. But there could be anywhere from ten to twenty operatives in there at any time. Maybe more if they're not out on hunts.

Dean cursed, leaning against the car to try and ease some of the pain from his injury. He knew they didn't have the firepower to take on that many alone. Not while getting Sam and Cas out too. "You think they'll let you in the gate?"

Mary pressed her lips into a thin line. "Maybe. I don't think I've given them reason yet to distrust me."

"Well, let's try it."

"But you're supposed to be dead," Mary reminded him before he could climb into the car. "Get in the back, and I'll cover you with a blanket."

Dean nodded and got in, lying down as his mom hid him with the blanket. It was cramped and claustrophobic, but he really hoped this would work.

Mary drove up to the gate and stopped. Dean held his breath as the Letters guard came over.

"Hey, just have some stuff to drop off to R&D," Mary said, nodding to the lump that was Dean in the back.

"Hold on," the guard said.

Dean clutched his gun to his chest, waiting for more guards to rush them as the man got on his radio. He couldn't hear what he was saying.

"What's the hold up?" Mary demanded. "It's late, I want to get home."

There was a long pause, but then the guard said, "You can go."

The gate opened and Mary drove through and around the compound, presumably to a place there might not be as many guards.

When she finally brought the car to a halt she patted Dean and he pulled the blanket off, sitting up with a wince.

"We good?" he asked.

"For now," she said. "But your car isn't exactly inconspicuous. If Ketch sees it, he'll know what's up."

Yeah, but they didn't really have a choice, their entire arsenal was in the trunk. Dean got out and went around to open it, grabbing everything they would need—including the grenade launcher.

His mom didn't even bother saying anything about it.

"Let's go," Dean said, closing the trunk.

He was glad he'd called his mom in once they got into the compound, because it was kind of a maze and he was sure you could get lost and cornered in here if you didn't know where you were going.

"Where do you think they'd keep them?" Dean asked his mom quietly as they crept through the hallways. "Is there like a cell block or something?" He was sure that there was. Or worse.

Mary pressed her lips together in thought. "I don't know. If Ketch is interrogating them…"

Dean's stomach twisted at the thought and anger flooded him. "Yeah, that bastard."

"Dean, I'm sorry," Mary said sincerely. "If I had known, I never would have gotten involved in this."

"Mom, now's not the time for that," Dean told her. "But it's not your fault. It's just…we've all been idiots."

Mary gave him a small, sad smile and they continued onward until Dean suddenly heard voices and held out his hand for his mom to halt. They crept toward the door and listened.

"I'll give you some time to think it over, I have other things to see to at the moment."

Ketch's voice, and his footsteps coming toward the door. Dean grabbed his mom and pulled her back around a corner as the door opened and Ketch strode out, making his way in the opposite direction.

Dean let out a breath, the anxiety causing his chest to tighten, which was not good for his injuries.

"Let's check this out," he said grimly and they crept back toward the room.

Mary cursed. "It's locked."

"Well, then…" Dean simply raised his hand and knocked on the door.

There were a couple seconds before footsteps came over, and it opened, revealing one of the Letters' guards in combat gear.

Dean wasted no time in clubbing him in his head with the butt of his shotgun and shoving him back into the room before stepping inside.

To a sight that made his chest ache even more.

"Sammy," he breathed, rushing toward the far wall.

His brother was hanging there by his wrists, legs no longer supporting him. He'd been stripped to the waist and his back was a mess of blood and cuts. No, whip marks, Dean realized as he saw a discarded bullwhip lying on a table, blood coating the braided leather.

Mary gasped, and came to help Dean, grabbing the key to the cuffs holding Sam.

Sam's head was hanging between his shoulders, seemingly unconscious as Dean reached out to support him carefully while their mom undid his hands.

Sam slumped heavily, bringing him and Dean both to the ground. Dean grunted, the fall jarring his body, but he caught Sam against him, glancing over his shoulder at the wreck that was his back.

"Sammy," he murmured, cupping a hand against the back of Sam's head, not knowing where else to touch him.

Sam stirred with a whimper, and craned his head up, blinking in confusion.

"D-Dean?" Then recognition set in and his eyes widened. "Dean! Thank god!"

"I'm okay, little brother," Dean told him gently.

"Thought he'd killed you," Sam whispered, reaching up to clumsily grip at Dean's jacket with a swollen hand.

"Hey, you know I'm not going to let some Limey bastard cap me like that," Dean gave him a smile. "We're here to get you out. You know where Cas is?"

Mary helped him pull Sam to his feet and he staggered, leaning heavily on both of them with a hiss.

"I—I don't know," he grunted. "Ketch said something about the research team, or…"

Dean glanced at Mary and she paled. "The R&D department. They love having supernatural creatures to…experiment on."

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled. "Look, Mom, can you get Sam back to the car?"

"You have no idea where you're going," Mary protested. "And you'll need help!"

"I can do it," Dean gritted out.

"No, you can't," Sam grunted, standing up straighter. "Give me a gun, we'll go together."

"No way, look at you," Dean protested.

"Yeah, I'm not much more worse off than you," Sam pointed out, glancing at the blood only partially hidden by Dean's jacket.

"Alright," Dean agreed. He didn't like it, but it wasn't like they had much choice. He grabbed Sam's discarded plaid shirt and helped his brother into it, wincing at Sam's hiss of pain when it settled against his bloody back. Then he handed his brother the shotgun and extra bullets.

"Let's go."

It was lucky that the place seemed pretty empty so they were able to move around without too much trouble, which was good because having to quickly hide three people was not an easy task.

"Most of the others are probably out on missions," Mary said.

"But we don't know where ketch is," Dean stated. Honestly, he was hoping to get a shot at the bastard before the night was over.

They made it to the lab or whatever it was, and Dean could already hear Ketch's voice on the other side.

"Just give it another dose if it won't stop struggling. That's right, halo, there's no stopping the inevitable."

Cas. Dean glanced at his mom and Sam and shoved through the doors, gun raised.

"Hey!" he bellowed.

The scientists startled, looking shocked, but Ketch only gave a lazy look, and a sigh.

"Oh, you're still alive."

"Should have gone for the head," Dean growled.

Ketch smirked. "Yes, well, perhaps I'll have a second chance. But you're just in time for the vivisection to start. I'm sure you don't want to miss that…"

Dean shot him in the leg and Ketch collapsed with a sharp cry of shock. Sam and Mary took out the three other scientists, one of which was standing over Cas with a bloody scalpel which clattered to the floor as the body fell.

"Get Cas," Dean told the others as he went over to Ketch who was reaching for his pistol. Dean kicked him onto his back and kicked the gun away from his hand. "Forget it. If you think you're getting away with this, think again."

"I'm not the end of this, you realize," Ketch said, grunting as he clutched his leg. "There will be more."

"Frankly, I don't give a damn," Dean said darkly. "You shot me, and hurt my family. If I take you out tonight that's good enough for me. And the rest of you can just try to come for us. I dare you."

Ketch snarled and made a move, and Dean put a bullet between his eyes. The man's body slumped on the ground, still.

Dean turned around to see Sam and Mary unstrapping Cas. Dean instantly regretted killing all the scientists so quickly when he saw the state the angel was in. He was stripped and bound to the table, some kind of gag muzzling him that Mary was trying to get off. In addition to multiple cuts and bruises, Cas had a deep cut running down the center of his chest, obviously the start of the promised vivisection.

"Cas, shit," Dean gasped, reaching down to help his mom with the muzzle.

The angel's eyes were blown wide, the pupils dilated, probably from some kind of drug. When the muzzle was finally free, he gasped, and raised a shaky hand. Dean caught it and rested his other on Cas' head, carding his hair gently to try and calm him.

"You're good, you're okay."

"Dean. Y-you…" the angel rasped then coughed.

"I'm good. So is Sam. You're okay now, we're getting you out of here."

He and Mary helped Cas sit up and Dean slid his coat off, tucking it around Cas' shoulders and looking for something else to cover him with. His mom was already divesting one of the scientists of their scrubs.

"Dean," Sam said, and Dean glanced to the side where his brother was holding up a large, familiar syringe.

"Holy crap," Dean growled. "Is that…?"

"Cas, is this your grace?" Sam asked, a sick look on his face.

The angel nodded, head heavy. "Not…all of it but…enough to make sure I…didn't heal too…quickly."

Dean swore and helped his mom wrestle the scrub pants onto Cas. "We need to leave," Mary said. "They'll have heard the gunshots."

Obviously, Dean realized, but he still didn't care. He helped Cas off the table, having to keep the angel upright, as Cas' knees gave out. Dean gritted his teeth, his own injuries only getting worse.

Sam carefully wrapped the syringe of grace in a cloth and allowed their mom to give him a hand as they all hurried out of the compound.

Some alarm was sounding by the time they made it out into the hallway and Dean cursed. The sounds of pounding feet could be heard from two different hallways. They were about to be trapped.

The guards culminated at the door they were racing for and they came to a halt.

"Stop!" one of the guards said.

Dean didn't stop. He pulled the grenade launcher from over his shoulder and shot directly at the guards blocking their exit.

An explosion rattled the compound and when the smoke cleared, the guards lay on the ground and the whole wall had been blown out.

"Damn," Sam gasped.

Dean couldn't help a small smirk. "See? I told you this was good for something."

Sam let out a breathless laugh and they all continued on, stepping over the guards as they made it outside.

The Impala was waiting for them, and they all piled in and got the hell out of there, not even bothering to look back.

They drove for about an hour until they got to a small town off the highway and decided to stop at a hotel to tend to their injuries. Cas and Sam were still bleeding into the leather seats, and Dean was about ready to drop, though he refused to do so until he had made sure Sam and Cas were safe.

Mary went to get a room since she wasn't covered in blood and then they all dragged themselves into the hotel room and collapsed onto the beds.

"I'll grab the first aid stuff from the car," Mary said.

Sam handed the syringe of grace to Cas. "Will this help you heal?"

Cas took it. "Eventually. I don't know if it will until the drugs are out of my system though."

"We'll patch you up anyway," Dean said.

Cas didn't even protest, obviously tired. He took the syringe and opened it, inhaling his grace again. His eyes glowed briefly, but, as predicted, nothing happened. His wounds didn't heal. He slumped, exhausted.

"I'm sorry I won't be able to heal you," he said.

"Cas, don't worry about that," Sam said as he carefully peeled his shirt off, gasping slightly. "Just worry about getting better."

Dean went to the bathroom to grab some towels and wet them, coming back out and heading to Sam.

"Lay on your stomach," he said and Sam rolled over with a grunt, grabbing one of the pillows and clutching it tiredly.

Dean began to clean the lash wounds as Mary tended to Cas, suturing the deep cut in his chest in case it took him a while to start healing again. Cas was stoic but the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the sharp inhales told how much pain he was in.

Sam arched his back against Dean's ministrations and grunted into the pillow.

"Sorry," Dean murmured.

"S'okay," Sam muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Just…glad you're all right."

Cas nodded in agreement. "We thought Ketch had killed you back there."

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah. I guess for a moment I thought he had too."

He used some clean gauze to spread an antibiotic cream over Sam's back, but left the wounds unbandaged, before he went to tend to Sam's wrists.

"What do we do now?" Cas asked tiredly as he slumped back on the other bed, looking exhausted.

"Well, the Brits will probably either retreat or double down on us," Dean said. "Personally, I'm not going to stop until they've flown back over the pond."

"Agreed," Mary said, helping Dean wrap Sam's wrists after he'd finished cleaning them. "I think we need to show them what American hunters are like."

"And not to tangle with us," Dean agreed with a small smile.

He finished tending Sam's wounds and sighed, leaning back on the bed beside his brother.

"Your turn," his mom said.

"I'm good, just need to sleep," Dean protested, but she folded her arms across her chest.

"Dean."

"All right." Dean sighed and struggled with his shirt, which Mary helped pull over his head before peeling back the bloody bandages he had quickly taped over his wound earlier. Dean hissed and lay back, squeezing his eyes shut.

He was exhausted.

His mom surprised him by reaching out and brushing a hand over his forehead in a very familiar gesture.

"It's okay, Dean. Go to sleep. I don't think they'll be after us tonight."

Dean wanted to protest, but one glance at Sam and Cas told him that they were already fast asleep, and it just made him feel even more tired.

So, under his mom's gentle ministrations that he refused to admit he was probably too old for, he closed his eyes and fell asleep, knowing that, no matter what came next, they would get through it as family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, favoriting and reviewing this year!   
> I am on Tumblr at @lady-wallace if you want to find me there! Feel free to say hi, send asks, talk headcanons etc. (I have commissions open again as well, so if you're looking for fix-it fics or ideas for Christmas gifts you can check that out :)


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